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INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 


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INDISCREET  LETTERS 
FROM  PEKING 


BEING  THE  NOTES  OF  AN  EYE-WITNESS,  WHICH 
SET  FORTH  IN  SOME  DETAIL,  FROM  DAY  TO 
DAY,  THE  REAL  STORY  OF  THE  SIEGE  AND  SACK 

OF  A  DISTRESSED  CAPITAL  IN  1900 THE  YEAR 

OF    GREAT     TRIBULATION  :         :         :         :         : 


EDITED    BY 

B.  L.  PUTNAM   WEALE 

Author  of  "  Manchu  and   Muscovite," 
and  "  The  Re-shaping  of  the  Far  East." 


NEW   YORK 

DODD,    MEAD   AND    COMPANY 
1910 


Copyright,   1907 

By  Dodd,   Mead  and  Company 

Published,  March,  1907 


CONTENTS 


Foreword 

II: 

Part  I  --  The  Warning 

I 

Fragments 

7 

II 

MUTTERINGS 

12 

III 

Overcast  Skies 

16 

IV 

Our  Guards  Arrive 

22 

V 

The  Plot  Thickens 

26 

VI 

The  Licking  Flames  Approach 

32 

VII 

The  City  of  Peking  and  All  its 

Glories 

38 

VIII 

Some  Incidents  and  the  One  Man 

47 

IX 

The  Coming  of  the  Boxers 

54 

X 

Barricades  and  Reliefs 

66 

XI 

Some  Men  and  Things 

IS 

XII 

Hell  Hounds 

79 

XIII 

A  Few  Crumbs 

84 

XIV 

The  Ultimatum 

88 

XV 

The  Debacle  Begins 
Part  II  --  The  Siege 

95 

I 

Chaos 

108 

II 

The  Retreat  and  the  Return 

120 

III 

Fires  and  Food 

136 

IV 

The  Bonds  Tighten 

144 

V 

The  Mysterious  Board  of  Truce 

155 

VI 

Shells  and  Sorties 

162 

VII 

The  Hospital  and  the  Graveyard 

178 

VIII 

The  Failure 

181 

IX 

An  Interlude 

188 

X 

The  Guns 

192 

XI 

Sniping 

197 

XII 

The  Gallant  French 

206 

XIII 

The  British  Legation  Base 

212 

XIV 

The  Ever-growing  Casualty  List 

217 

XV 

The  Armistice 

224 

XVI 

The  Resumption  of  a  Semi-diplo- 

matic Life 

232 

XVII 

Diplomacy  Continues 

239 

XVIII 

The  Unrest  Grows  and  Diplomacy 

Continues 

241 

XIX 

The  First  Real  News 

245 

XX 

The  Third  Phase  Continues 

248 

XXI 

More  Diplomacy 

251 

XXII 

The  World  Beyond  Our  Bricks 

254 

XXIII 

Trifles 

256 

XXIV 

Diplomatic  Confidences 

261 

XXV 

The  Plot  Again  Thickens 

265 

XXVI 

More  Messengers 

269 

XXVII 

The  Attacks  Resumed 

271 

XXVIII 

The  Thirteenth 

275 

XXIX 

The  Night  of  the  Thirteenth 

278 

XXX 

How  I  Saw  the  Relief 
Part  III  -  The  Sack 

284 

I 

The  Palace 

3°7 

II 

The  Sack 

327 

III 

The  Sack  Continues 

354 

IV 

Chaos 

370 

V 

Settling  Down 

374 

VI 

The  Forbidden  Fruit 

377 

CONTENTS 

vii 

VII 

The  Few  Remains 

397 

VIII 

The  Palsy  Remains 

412 

IX 

Drifting 

420 

X 

Picking  up  Threads 

424 

XI 

The  Impossible 

428 

XII 

Suspense 

434 

XIII 

Still  Drifting 

436 

XIV 

Punitive  Expeditions 

438 

XV 

The  Climax 

440 

XVI 

The  End 

443 

FOREWORD 

The  publication  of  these  letters,  dealing  with  the 
startling  events  which  took  place  in  Peking  during  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  1900,  at  this  late  date  may  be 
justified  on  a  number  of  counts.  In  the  first  place,  there 
can  be  but  little  doubt  that  an  exact  narrative  from  the 
pen  of  an  eye-witness  who  saw  everything,  and  knew 
exactly  what  was  going  on  from  day  to  day,  and  even 
from  hour  to  hour,  in  the  diplomatic  world  of  the  Chi- 
nese capital  during  the  deplorable  times  when  the  dread 
Boxer  movement  overcast  everything  so  much  that  even 
in  England  the  South  African  War  was  temporarily  for- 
gotten, is  of  intense  human  interest,  showing  most  clearly 
as  it  does,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  realistic  fashion, 
the  extraordinary  boideversement  which  overcame  every 
one;  the  unpreparedness  and  the  panic  when  there  was 
really  ample  warning;  the  rivalry  of  the  warring  Lega- 
tions even  when  they  were  almost  in  extremis,  and  the 
curious  course  of  the  whole  siege  itself  owing  to  the 
division  of  counsels  among  the  Chinese — this  last  a 
state  of  affairs  which  alone  saved  every  one  from  a 
shameful  death.  In  the  second  place,  this  account  may 
dispel  many  false  ideas  which  still  obtain  in  Europe  and 
America  regarding  the  position  of  various  Powers  in 
China — ideas  based  on  data  which  have  long  been  de- 
clared of  no  value  by  those  competent  to  judge.  In  the 
third  place,  the  vivid  and  terrible  description  of  the  sack 
of  Peking  by  the  soldiery  of  Europe,  showing  the  de- 


2  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

moralisation  into  which  all  troops  fall  as  soon  as  the  iron 
hand  of  discipline  is  relaxed,  may  set  finally  at  rest  the 
mutual  recriminations  which  have  since  been  levelled 
publicly  and  privately.  Everybody  was  tarred  with  the 
same  brush.  Those  arm-chair  critics  who  have  been  too 
prone  to  state  that  brutalities  no  longer  mark  the  course 
of  war  may  reconsider  their  words,  and  remember  that 
sacking,  with  all  the  accompanying  excesses,  is  still  re- 
garded as  the  divine  right  of  soldiery  unless  the  provost- 
marshal's  gallows  stand  ready.  In  the  fourth  place, 
those  who  still  believe  that  the  representatives  assigned  to 
Eastern  countries  need  only  be  second-rate  men — reserv- 
ing for  Europe  the  master-minds — may  begin  to  ask 
themselves  seriously  whether  the  time  has  not  come 
when  only  the  most  capable  and  brilliant  diplomatic 
officials — men  whose  intelligence  will  help  to  shape 
events  and  not  be  led  by  them,  and  who  will  act  with 
iron  firmness  when  the  time  for  such  action  comes — 
should  be  assigned  to  such  a  difficult  post  as  Peking.  In 
the  fifth  place,  the  strange  idea,  which  refuses  to  be 
eradicated,  that  the  Chinese  showed  themselves  in  this 
Peking  siege  once  and  for  all  incompetent  to  carry  to 
fruition  any  military  plan,  may  be  somewhat  corrected 
by  the  plain  and  convincing  terms  in  which  the  eye- 
witness describes  the  manner  in  which  they  stayed  their 
hand  whenever  it  could  have  slain,  and  the  silent 
struggle  which  the  Moderates  of  Chinese  politics  must 
have  waged  to  avert  the  catastrophe  by  merely  gain- 
ing time  and  allowing  the  Desperates  to  dash  them- 
selves to  pieces  when  the  inevitable  swing  of  the  pendu- 
lum took  place.     Finally,  it  will  not  escape  notice  that 


FOREWORD  3 

many  remarks  borne  out  all  through  the  narrative  tend 
to  show  that  British  diplomacy  in  the  Far  East  was  at 
one  time  at  a  low  ebb. 

Of  course  the  Peking  siege  has  already  been  amply 
described  in  many  volumes  and  much  magazine  litera- 
ture. Dr.  Morrison,  the  famous  Peking  correspondent 
of  the  Times,  informs  me  that  he  has  in  his  library  no 
less  than  forty-three  accounts  in  English  alone.  The 
majority  of  these,  however,  are  not  as  complete  or  en- 
lightening as  they  might  be;  nor  has  the  extraordinarily 
dramatic  nature  of  the  Warning,  the  Siege,  and  the 
Sack  been  shown.  Thus  few  people,  outside  of  a  small 
circle  in  the  Far  East,  have  been  able  to  understand 
from  such  accounts  what  actually  occurred  in  Peking,  or 
to  realise  the  nature  of  the  fighting  which  took  place. 
The  two  best  accounts,  Dr.  Morrison's  own  statement 
and  the  French  Minister's  graphic  report  to  his  govern- 
ment, were  both  written  rather  to  fix  the  principal 
events  immediately  after  they  had  occurred  than  to 
attempt  to  probe  beneath  the  surface,  or  to  deal  with  the 
strictly  personal  or  private  side.  Nor  did  they  em- 
brace that  most  remarkable  portion  of  the  Boxer  year, 
the  entire  sack  of  Peking  and  the  extraordinary  scenes 
which  marked  this  latter-day  Vandalism.  A  veil  has 
been  habitually  drawn  over  these  little-known  events, 
but  in  the  narrative  which  follows  it  is  boldly  lifted  for 
the  first  time. 

The  eye-witness  whose  account  follows  was  careful 
to  establish  with  as  much  lucidity  as  possible  each  phase 
of  existence  during  five  months  of  extraordinary  inter- 
est.    Much  in  these  notes  has  had  to  be  suppressed  for 


4  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

many  reasons,  and  much  that  remains  may  create  some 
astonishment.  Yet  it  is  well  to  remember  that  "one 
eye-witness,  however  dull  and  prejudiced,  is  worth  a 
wilderness  of  sentimental  historians."  The  historians 
are  already  beginning  to  arise;  these  pages  may  serve 
as  a  corrective  to  many  erroneous  ideas.  Perhaps  some 
also  will  allow  that  this  curious  tragedy,  swept  into  Pe- 
king and  playing  madly  round  the  entrenched  European 
Legations,  has  intense  human  interest  still.  The  vague 
terror  which  oppressed  every  one  before  the  storm  actu- 
ally burst;  the  manner  in  which  the  feeble  chain  of 
fighting  men  were  locked  round  the  European  lines,  and 
suffered  grievously  but  were  providentially  saved  from 
annihilation;  the  curious  way  in  which  diplomacy  made 
itself  felt  from  time  to  time  only  to  disappear  as  the 
rude  shock  of  events  taking  place  near  Tientsin  and  the 
sea  were  reflected  in  Peking;  the  final  coming  of  the 
strange  relief — all  these  points  and  many  others  are 
made  in  such  a  manner  that  every  one  should  be  able 
to  understand  and  to  believe.  The  description  of  the 
last  act  of  the  upheaval — the  complete  sack  of  Peking 
— shows  clearly  how  the  lust  for  loot  gains  all  men, 
and  hand  in  hand  invites  such  terrible  things  as  whole- 
sale rape  and  murder. 

The  eye-witness  attempts  to  account  for  all  that  hap- 
pened; to  make  real  and  living  the  hoarse  roll  of  mus- 
ketry, the  savage  cries  of  desperadoes  stripped  to  the 
waist  and  glistening  in  their  sweat;  to  give  echo  to  the 
blood-curdling  notes  of  Chinese  trumpets;  to  limn  the 
tall  mountains  of  flames  licking  sky  high.  If  there  is  fail- 
ure in  these  efforts,  it  is  due  to  the  editing. 


FOREWORD  5 

The  summer  of  1900  in  Peking  will  ever  remain  as 
famous  in  the  annals  of  the  world's  history  as  the 
Indian  Mutiny;  it  was  something  unique  and  un- 
paralleled. With  the  curious  movements  now  at  work 
in  the  Far  East,  it  may  not  be  unwise  to  study  the  story 
again.  And  after  Port  Arthur  these  pages  may 
show  something  about  which  little  has  been  written — 
the  psychology  of  the  siege.  The  siege  is  still  the  rudest 
test  in  the  world.     It  is  well  to  know  it. 

B.  L.  Putnam  Weale. 

China,  June,  1900. 


INDISCREET   LETTERS 
FROM   PEKING 

PART  I  --  THE  WARNING 


FRAGMENTS 

1 2th  May,  1900. 


The  weather  is  becoming  hot,  even  here  in  latitude 
40  and  in  the  month  of  May.  The  Peking  dust, 
distinguished  among  all  the  dusts  of  the  earth  for  its 
blackness,  its  disagreeable  insistence  in  sticking  to  one's 
clothes,  one's  hair,  one's  very  eyebrows,  until  a  grey- 
brown  coating  is  visible  to  every  eye,  is  rising  in  heavier 
clouds  than  ever.  In  the  market-places,  and  near  the 
great  gates  of  the  city,  where  Peking  carts  and  camels 
from  beyond  the  passes — k'on  wai,  to  use  the  correct 
vernacular — jostle  one  another,  the  dust  has  become 
damnable  beyond  words,  and  there  can  be  no  health 
possibly  in  us.  The  Peking  dust  rises,  therefore,  in 
clouds  and  obscures  the  very  sun  at  times;  for  the  sun 
always  shines  here  in  our  Northern  China,  except  dur- 
ing a  brief  summer  rainy  season,  and  a  few  other  days 
you  can  count  on  your  fingers.  The  dust  is  without 
significance,  you  will  say,  since  it  is  always  there  more 
or  less.    It  is  in  any  case — healthy ;  it  chokes  you,  but  is 


8  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

reputed  also  to  choke  germs;  therefore  it  is  good.  A? 
of  which  is  true,  only  this  year  there  is  more  of  it  thai 
ever,  meaning  very  dry  weather  indeed  for  this  city 
hanging  near  the  gates  of  Mongolian  deserts — a  dq 
weather  spelling  the  devil  for  the  Northern   farmer, 

Meanwhile,  is  there  anything  special  for  me  t< 
chronicle?  Not  much,  although  there  is  a  cloud  n<; 
bigger  than  your  hand  in  Shantung  not  a  thousand  mileu 
from  Weihaiwei,  and  the  German  Legation  is  conse 
quently  somewhat  irate.  It  was  noticed  at  our  club» 
for  instance,  which,  by  the  way,  is  a  humble  affair,  that 
the  German  military  attache,  a  gentleman  who  wears 
bracelets,  is  somewhat  effeminate,  and  plays  vile  tennis 
and  worse  billiards,  had  a  "hostile  attitude"  towards  the 
British  Legation — that  is,  such  of  the  British  Legation 
as  gather  together  each  day  at  the  "ice-shed" — 
which  happens  to  be  the  club's  peculiar  Chinese 
name.  The  military  attache  is  somewhat  irate,  because 
the  spectacle  of  the  Weihaiwei  regiment,  six  hundred 
yellow  men  under  twelve  white  Englishmen,  chasing 
malcontents  in  Shantung,  is  derogatory  to  Teutonic 
aspirations.  Germany  has  earmarked  Shantung,  and 
it  is  just  like  English  bluntness  to  remind  the  would-be 
dominant  Power  that  there  is  a  British  sphere  and  a 
British  colony  in  the  Chinese  province,  as  well  as  a 
German  sphere  and  a  German  colony.  But  the  German 
Minister,  a  beau  gar  con  with  blue  eyes  and  a  handsome 
moustache,  says  nothing,  and  is  quite  calm. 

Meanwhile  the  cloud  no  bigger  than  your  hand  is 
quite  unremarked  by  the  rank  and  file  of  Legation  Street 
— that  I  will  swear.  Chinese  malcontents — "the  Society 
of  Harmonious  Fists,"  particular  habitat  Shantung 
province — are  casually  mentioned;  but  it  is  remembered 


FRAGMENTS  9 

that  the  provincial  governor  of  Shantung  is  a  strong 
Chinaman,  one  Yuan  Shih-kai,  who  has  some  knowl- 
edge of  military  matters,  and,  better  still,  ten  thousand 
foreign-drilled  troops.  Shantung  is  all  right,  never  fear 
— such  is  the  comment  of  the  day. 

But  the  political  situation — the  situation  politique  as 
we  call  it  in  our  several  conversations,  which  always 
have  a  diplomatic  turn — although  not  grave,  is  unhappy; 
everybody  at  least  acknowledges  that.  Peking  has 
never  been  what  it  was  before  the  Japanese  war.  In 
the  old  days  we  were  all  something  of  a  happy  family. 
There  were  merely  the  eleven  Legations,  the  In- 
spectorate   of    Chinese    Customs,    with    the    aged    Sir 

R H at  its  head,  and  perhaps  a  few  favoured 

globe-trotters  or  nondescripts  looking  for  rich  conces- 
sions. Picnics  and  dinners,  races  and  excursions,  were 
the  order  of  the  day,  and  politics  and  political  situations 
were  not  burning.  Ministers  plenipotentiary  and  en- 
voys extraordinary  wore  Terai  hats,  very  old  clothes, 
and  had  an  affable  air — something  like  what  Teheran 
must  still  be.  Then  came  the  Japanese  war,  and  the 
eternal  political  situation.  Russia  started  the  ball  roll- 
ing and  the  others  kicked  it  along.    The  Russo-Chinese 

Bank  appeared  on  the  scenes  led  by  the  great  P ,  a 

man  with  an  ominous  black  portfolio  continually  under 
his  arm,  as  he  hurried  along  Legation  Street,  and  an  in- 
triguing expression  always  on  his  dark  face — a  veritable 
master  of  men  and  moneys,  they  say.  This  intriguing 
soon  found  expression  in  the  Cassini  Convention,  de- 
nounced as  untrue,  and  followed  by  a  perfectly  open 
and  frank  Manchurian  railway  convention,  a  conven- 
tion which,  in  spite  of  its  frankness,  had  future  trouble 
written  unmistakably  on  the  face  of  it.     Besides  these 


10  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

things  there  were  always  ominous  reports  of  other 
things — of  great  things  being  done  secretly. 

After  the  Russo-Chinese  Bank  and  the  Manchurian 
railway  business,  there  was  the  Kiaochow  affair,  then 
the  Port  Arthur  affair,  the  Weihaiwei  and  Kwangchow- 
wan  affairs,  nothing  but  "affairs"  all  tending  in  the 
same  direction — the  making  of  a  very  grave  political 
situation.  The  juniors  to-day  make  fun  of  it,  it  is  true, 
and  greet  each  other  daily  with  the  salutation,  "La  situa- 
tion politique  est  tres  grave/'  and  laugh  at  the  good 
words.  But  it  is  grave  notwithstanding  the  laughter. 
Once  in  1899,  after  the  Empress  Dowager's  coup  d'etat 
and  the  virtual  imprisonment  of  the  Emperor,  Legation 
Guards  had  to  be  sent  for,  a  few  files  for  each  of  the 
Legations  that  possess  squadrons  in  the  Far  East,  and, 
what  is  more,  these  guards  had  to  stay  for  a  good  many 
months.  The  guards  are  now  no  more,  but  it  is  curious 
that  the  men  they  came  mainly  to  protect  us  against — 
Tung  Fu-hsiang's  Mohammedan  braves  from  the  sav- 
age back  province  of  Kansu  who  love  the  reactionary 
Empress  Dowager — are  still  encamped  near  the  North- 
ern capital. 

The  old  Peking  society  has  therefore  vanished,  and 
in  its  place  are  highly  suspicious  and  hostile  Legations — 
Legations  petty  in  their  conceptions  of  men  and  things — 
Legations  bitterly  disliking  one  another — in  fact,  Lega- 
tions richly  deserving  all  they  get,  some  of  the  cynics 
say. 

The  Peking  air,  as  I  have  already  said,  is  highly 
electrical  and  unpleasant  in  these  hot  spring  days  with 
the  dust  rising  in  heavy  clouds.  Squabbling  and  can- 
tankerous, rather  absurd  and  petty,  the  Legations  are 
spinning  their  little  threads,  each  one  hedged  in  by  high 


FRAGMENTS  11 

walls  in  its  own  compound  and  by  the  debatable  ques- 
tion of  the  situation  politique. 

Outside  and  around  us  roars  the  noise  of  the  Tartar 
city.  At  night  the  noise  ceases,  for  the  inner  and  outer 
cities  are  closed  to  one  another  by  great  gates;  but  at 
midnight  the  gates  are  opened  by  sleepy  Manchu  guards 
for  a  brief  ten  minutes,  so  that  gorgeous  red  and  blue- 
trapped  carts,  drawn  by  sleek  mules,  may  speed  into  the 
Imperial  City  for  the  Daybreak  Audience  with  the 
Throne.  These  conveyances  contain  the  high  officials  of 
the  Empire.  It  has  been  noticed  by  a  Legation  stroller 
on  the  Wall — the  Tartar  Wall — that  the  number  of 
carts  passing  in  at  midnight  is  far  greater  than  usual; 
that  the  guards  of  the  city  gates  now  and  again  stop 
and  question  a  driver.     It  is  nothing. 

Meanwhile  the  dust  rises  in  clouds.  It  is  very  dry  this 
year — that  is  all. 


II 

MUTTERINGS 

24th  May,  1900. 


We  are  beginning  to  call  them  Boxers — grudgingly 
and  sometimes  harking  back  and  giving  them  their 
full  name,  "Society  of  Harmonious  Fists,"  or  the  "Right- 
eous Harmony  Fist  Society";  but  still  a  beginning  has 
been  made,  and  they  are  becoming  Boxers  by  the  in- 
evitable process  of  shortening  which  distinguishes 
speech. 

We  have  been  talking  about  them  a  good  deal  to-day, 
these  Boxers,  since  it  has  been  the  birthday  of  her  most 
excellent  Majesty  Queen  Victoria,  and  the  British  Lega- 
tion has  been  en  fete.  Her  Majesty's  Minister,  in  fine, 
has  been  entertaining  us  in  the  vast  and  princely  gar- 
dens of  the  British  Legation  at  his  own  expense.  Weird 
Chinese  lanterns  have  been  lighted  in  the  evening  and 
slung  around  the  grounds;  champagne  has  been  flowing 
with  what  effervescence  it  could  muster;  the  eleven  Lega- 
tions and  the  nondescripts  have  forgotten  their  cares 
for  a  brief  space  and  have  been  enjoying  the  evening 

air  and  the  music  of  Sir  R H 's  Chinese  band. 

Looking  at  lighted  lanterns,  drinking  champagne  cup, 
listening  to  a  Chinese  band — where  the  devil  is  the 
protocol  and  the  political  situation,  you  will  say?  Not 
quite  forgotten,  since  the  French  Minister  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  all  the  evening  by  his  vehement  man- 


MUTTERINGS  13 

ner.  I  pushed  up  once,  too,  and  with  a  polite  bow  lis- 
tened to  what  he  was  saying.  Ah,  the  old  words,  the 
eternal  words,  the  political  situation,  or  the  situation 
politique,  whichever  way  you  like  to  use  them.  But  still 
you  listen  a  bit,  for  it  is  droll  to  hear  the  yet  unaccus- 
tomed word  Boxers  in  French.  "Les  Boxeurs,"  he  says; 
and  what  the  French  Minister  says  is  always  worth  lis- 
tening to,  since  he  has  the  best  Intelligence  corps  in  the 
world — the  Catholic  priests  of  China — at  his  disposal. 

Curiously  enough,  he  was  speaking  of  the  arch-priest 
of  priests,   renowned  above  all  others  in  this   Peking 

world,    Monseigneur   F ,    Vicar   Apostolic   of   the 

Manchu  capital — almost  Vicar  of  God  to  countless  thou- 
sands   of    dark-yellow    converts.      It    is    Monseigneur 

F 's  letter  of  the  19th  May,  written  but  five  days 

ago,  and  already  locally  famous  through  leakage,  which 
was  the  subject-matter  of  his  impromptu  oration.  Mon- 
seigneur   F wrote    and    demanded    a    guard    of 

marines  for  his  cathedral,  his  people  and  his  chattels — 
quarante  ou  cinquante  marins  pour  proteger  nos  per- 
sonnes  et  nos  biens,  were  his  exact  words,  and  his  re- 
quest has  been  cruelly  refused  by  the  Council  of  Minis- 
ters on  the  ground  that  it  is  absurd.  The  Vicar  Apos- 
tolic, however,  gave  his  grounds  for  making  such  a  de- 
mand calmly  and  logically — depicted  the  damage 
already  done  by  an  anti-foreign  and  revolutionary 
movement  in  the  districts  not  a  thousand  miles  from 
Peking,  and  solemnly  forecasted  what  was  soon  to  hap- 
pen.   .    .    . 

The  French  Minister  was  irate  and  raised  his  fat 
hands  above  his  fat  person,  took  a  discreet  look  around 
him,  and  then  hinted  that  it  was  this  Legation,  the  Brit- 
ish Legation,  which  stopped  the  marines  from  coming. 


14  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

The  French  Minister  was  quite  irate,  and  after  his 
discourse  was  ended  he  slipped  quietly  away — possibly 
to  send  some  more  telegrams.  The  crumbs  of  his  con- 
versation were  soon  gathered  up  and  distributed  and 
the  conviviality  somewhat  damped.  As  yet,  however, 
the  Boxers  are  only  laughed  at  and  are  not  taken  quite 
seriously.  They  have  killed  native  Christians,  it  is  true, 
and  it  has  been  proved  conclusively  now  that  it  was  they 
who  murdered  Brooks,  the  English  missionary  in  Shan- 
tung. But  Englishmen  are  cheap,  since  there  is  a  glut 
in  the  home  market,  and  their  government  merely  gets 
angry  with  them  when  they  get  into  trouble  and  are 
killed.     So  many  are  always  getting  killed  in  China. 

So  the  Boxers,  with  half  the  governments  of  Europe, 
led  by  England,  as  we  know  by  our  telegrams,  seeking 
to  minimise  their  importance — in  fact,  trying  to  stifle 
the  movement  by  ignoring  it  or  lavishing  on  it  their 
supreme  contempt — have  already  moved  from  their 
particular  habitat,  which  is  Shantung,  into  the  metro- 
politan province  of  Chihli.  Already  they  are  in  some 
force  at  Chochou,  only  seventy  miles  to  the  southeast 
of  Peking — always  massacring,  always  advancing,  and 
driving  in  bodies  of  native  Christians  before  them  on 
their  march.  Nobody  cares  very  much,  however,  ex- 
cept a  vicar  apostolic,  who  urgently  requests  forty  or 
fifty  marines  or  sailors  "to  protect  our  persons  and  our 
chattels."  Foolish  bishop  he  is,  is  he  not,  when  Chris- 
tians have  been  expressly  born  to  be  massacred?  Does 
he  not  know  his  history? 

Lead  on,  blind  ministers  plenipotentiary  and  envoys 
extraordinary;  lead  on,  with  your  eternal  political  situa- 
tions in  embryo,  your  eternal  political  situations  that 
have  not  yet  hatched  out ;  while  one  that  is  more  preg- 


MUTTERINGS  15 

nant  than  any  you  have  ever  conceived  is  already  born 
under  your  very  noses  and  is  being  sniffed  at  by  you. 
But  no  matter  what  happens  outside,  Peking  is  safe, 
that  is  your  dictum,  and  the  dictum  of  the  day.  So, 
yawning  and  somewhat  tired  of  the  evening's  convivial- 
ities, we  go  our  several  ways  home,  in  our  Peking  carts 
and  our  official  chairs,  and  are  soon  lost  in  sleep — 
dreaming,  perhaps,  that  we  have  been  too  long  in  this 
dry  Northern  climate,  and  that  it  is  really  affecting 
one's  nerves. 


Ill 

OVERCAST  SKIES 

28th  May,    1900. 


It  is  only  four  days  since  we  discussed  the  Vicar  Apos- 
tolic's  letter,  and  laughed  somewhat  at  French  ex- 
citability; but  in  four  days  what  a  change!  The  cloud 
no  bigger  than  your  hand  is  now  bigger  than  your  whole 
body,  bigger,  indeed,  than  the  combined  bodies  of  all 
your  neighbours,  supposing  you  could  spread  them  fan- 
tastically in  great  layers  across  the  skies.  What,  then, 
has  happened? 

It  is  that  the  Boxers,  christened  by  us,  as  you  will 
remember,  but  two  or  three  short  weeks  ago,  have  blos- 
somed forth  with  such  fierce  growth  that  they  have 
become  the  men  of  the  hour  to  the  exclusion  of  every- 
thing else,  and  were  one  to  believe  one  tithe  of  the 
talk  babbling  all  around,  the  whole  earth  is  shaking 
with  them.  Yet  it  is  a  very  local  affair — a  thing  con- 
cerning only  a  tiny  portion  of  a  half-known  corner  of 
the  world.  But  for  us  it  is  sufficiently  grave.  The 
Peking-Paotingfu  railway  is  being  rapidly  destroyed; 
Fengtai  station,  but  six  miles  from  Peking — think  of 
it,  only  six  miles  from  this  Manchu  holy  of  holies — has 
gone  up  in  flames;  a  great  steel  bridge  has  succumbed 
to  the  destroying  energy  of  dynamite.  All  the  Euro- 
pean engineers  have  fled  into  Peking;  and,  worst  of  all, 
the  Boxer  banners  have  been  unfurled;  and  lo  and  be- 


OVERCAST  SKIES  17 

hold,  as  they  floated  in  the  breeze,  the  four  dread  char- 
acters, "Pao  Ch'ing  Mien  Yang,"  have  been  read  on 
blood-red  bunting — "Death  and  destruction  to  the 
foreigner  and  all  his  works  and  loyal  support  to  the 
great  Ching  dynasty." 

Is  that  sufficiently  enthralling,  or  should  I  add  that 
the  invulnerability  of  the  Boxer  has  been  officially  and 
indisputably  tested  by  the  Manchus,  according  to  the 
gossip  of  the  day?  Proceeding  to  the  Boxer  camp  at 
Chochou,  duly  authorised  officers  of  the  Crown  have 
seen  recruits,  who  have  performed  all  the  dread  rites, 
and  are  initiated,  stand  fearlessly  in  front  of  a  full- 
fledged  Boxer;  have  seen  that  Boxer  load  up  his  blun- 
derbuss with  powder,  ramming  down  a  wad  on  top; 
have  witnessed  a  handful  of  iron  buckshot  added,  but 
with  no  wad  to  hold  the  charge  in  place;  have  noticed 
that  the  master  Boxer  gesticulated  with  his  lethal 
weapon  the  better  to  impress  his  audience  before  he 
fired,  but  have  not  noticed  that  the  iron  buckshot  tripped 
merrily  out  of  the  rusty  barrel  since  no  wad  held  it  in 
place;  and  finally,  when  the  fire-piece  belched  forth 
flames  and  ear-breaking  noise  at  a  distance  of  a  man's 
body  from  the  recruit's  person,  they  have  seen,  and  with 
them  thousands  of  others,  that  no  harm  came.  It  is 
astounding,  miraculous,  but  it  is  true;  henceforth,  the 
Boxer  is  officially  invulnerable  and  must  remain  so  as 
long  as  the  ground  is  parched.  That  is  what  our  Chi- 
nese reports  say. 

There  are  myriads  of  men  already  in  camp  and 
myriads  more  speeding  on  their  way  to  this  Chochou 
camp  of  camps,  while  in  village  and  hamlet  local  com- 
mittees of  public  safety  against  the  accursed  foreigner 
and  all  his  works  are  being  quite  naturally  evolved,  and 


18     INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

red  cloth — that  sign  manual  of  revolt — is  already  at  a 
premium.  The  whole  province  of  Chihli  is  shaking; 
North  China  will  soon  be  in  flames;  any  one  with  half 
a  nose  can  smell  rebellion  in  the  air.  .   .   . 

This  is  one  side  of  the  picture,  the  side  which  friendly 
Chinese  are  painting  for  us.  Yet  when  you  glance  at 
the  eleven  Legations,  placidly  living  their  own  little  lives, 
you  will  see  them  cynically  listening  to  these  old 
women's  tales,  while  at  heart  they  secretly  wonder  what 
political  capital  each  of  them  can  separately  make  out 
of  the  whole  business,  so  that  their  governments  may 
know  that  Peking  has  clever  diplomats.  Clever  diplo- 
mats !     There  have  been  no  clever  diplomats  in  Peking 

since  G of  the  French  Legation  took  his  departure, 

and  that  purring  Slav  P went  to  Seoul. 

Of  course  Peking  is  safe,  that  goes  without  saying; 
but  merely  because  there  are  foolish  women  and  chil- 
dren, some  nondescripts,  and  a  good  many  missionaries, 
we  will  order  a  few  guards.  This,  at  least,  has  just  been 
decided  by  the  Council  of  Ministers — a  rather  foolish 
council,  without  backbone,  excepting  one  man.  All 
the  afternoon  everybody  was  occupied  in  telegraphing 
the  orders  and  reports  of  the  day,  and  these  actions  are 
now  beyond  recall. 

Guards  have  been  ordered  from  the  ships  lying  out 
at  the  Taku  bar.  The  guards  will  soon  be  here,  and 
when  they  have  come  the  movement  will  cease.  Thus 
have  the  eleven  Legations  spoken,  each  telegraphing  a 
different  tale  to  its  government,  and  each  more  than  an- 
noyed by  this  joint  action.  Incidentally  each  one  is 
secretly  wondering  what  is  going  to  happen,  and 
whether  there  is  really  any  danger. 

It   has   been    directly   telegraphed    from    London   by 


OVERCAST   SKIES  19 

Her  Majesty's  Secretary  of  Foreign  Affairs,  Lord 
Salisbury,  so  gossip  says,  that  as  quite  enough  has  been 
heard  of  this  Boxer  business  it  must  cease  at  once.  Is 
not  the  South  African  War  still  proceeding,  and  has 
England  not  enough  troubles  without  this  additional 
one?  It  is  almost  pathetic,  this  peremptory  order  from 
a  vacillating  Foreign  Office  that  never  knows  its  own 
mind — this  Canute-like  bidding  of  the  angry  waves  of 
human  men  to  stand  still  at  once  and  be  no  more  heard 
of.  People  in  Europe  will  never  quite  understand  the 
East,  for  the  East  is  ruled  by  things  which  are  impos- 
sible in  a  temperate  climate. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  Palace,  whose  pink  walls  we  see 
blinking  at  us  in  the  sun  just  beyond  Legation  Street, 
all  is  also  topsy-turvy,  the  Chinese  reports  say.  The 
Empress  Dowager,  shrewdly  listening  to  this  person 
and  that,  must  feel  in  her  own  bones  that  it  is  a  bad 
business,  and  that  it  will  not  end  well,  for  she  under- 
stands dynastic  disasters  uncommonly  well.  She  has 
sent  again  and  again  for  P'i  Hsiao-li,  "Cobbler's-wax" 
Li,  as  he  is  called,  the  reputed  false  eunuch  who  is  mas- 
ter of  her  inner  counsels,  if  Chinese  small  talk  is  to  be 
believed.  The  eunuch  Li  has  been  told  earnestly  to  find 
out  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  A  passionate 
old  woman,  this  Empress  Dowager  of  China,  a  veri- 
table Catherine  of  Russia  in  her  younger  days  they  say, 
with  her  hot  Manchu  blood  and  her  lust  for  ruling  men. 
"Cobbler's-wax"  Li,  son  of  a  cobbler  and  falsely  emas- 
culated, they  say,  so  that  he  might  become  an  eunuch 
of  the  Palace,  from  which  lowly  estate  he  has  blossomed 
into  the  real  power  behind  the  Throne,  hastens  off  once 
more  to  the  palace  of  Prince  Tuan,  the  father  of  the 
titular  heir-apparent.     As  Prince  Tuan's  discretion  has 


20  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

long  since  been  cast  to  the  winds,  and  Lao  t'uan-yeh,  or 
spiritual  Boxer  chiefs,  now  sit  at  the  princely  banquet- 
ing tables  discussing  the  terms  on  which  they  will  rush 
the  Tartar  city  with  their  flags  unfurled  and  their  yell- 
ing forces  behind  them,  a  foolish  and  irresolute  govern- 
ment, made  up  of  the  most  diverse  elements,  and  a 
rouge-smirched  Empress  Dowager,  will  then  have  to 
side  with  them  or  be  begulfed  too.  Anxiously  listen- 
ing, "Cobbler's-wax"  Li  weighs  the  odds,  for  no  fool 
is  this  false  eunuch,  who  through  his  manly  charms 
leads  an  Empress  who  in  turn  leads  an  empire.  Half 
suspicious  and  wholly  unconvinced,  he  questions  and  de- 
mands the  exact  number  of  invulnerables  that  can  be 
placed  in  line;  and  is  forthwith  assured,  with  braggart 
Chinese  choruses,  that  they  are  as  locusts,  that  the  whole 
earth  swarms  with  them,  that  the  movement  is  uncon- 
querable. Still  unconvinced,  the  false  eunuch  takes  his 
departure,  and  then  the  Throne  decrees  and  counter  de- 
crees in  agonised  Edicts.  It  is  noticed,  too,  that  the  dis- 
tributors of  the  official  organ,  the  Peking  Gazette,  no 
longer  staidly  walk  their  rounds,  pausing  to  gossip  with 
their  friends,  but  run  with  their  wooden-block  printed 
Edicts  wet  from  the  presses,  and  shout  indiscreetly  to 
the  passers-by,  "Aside,  our  business  is  important."  In 
all  faith  there  is  something  in  this  movement.  It  is  also 
noticed  that  roughness  and  rudeness  are  growing  in  the 
streets;  little  things  that  are  always  the  precursors  of 
the  coming  storm  in  the  East  are  freely  indulged  in, 
and  "foreign  devil"  is  now  almost  a  chorus.  The  at- 
mosphere is  obviously  unwholesome,  but  guards  have 
been  ordered  and  it  will  soon  be  well.  All  these  other 
things  of  which  I  speak  are  merely  native  reports.  .  .  . 
Meanwhile  each  Legation  does  not  forget  its  dignity, 


OVERCAST  SKIES  21 

but  walks  stolidly  alone.  Alone  in  front  of  the  French 
Legation  is  there  some  commotion  almost  hourly.  It  is, 
however,  only  the  arrival  and  departure  of  Catholic 
priests  posting  to  and  from  the  Pei-t'ang  about  that 
little  business  of  forty  or  fifty  marines  pour  proteger  nos 
personnes  et  nos  biens,  that  is  all.  A  singularly  im- 
portunate fellow  this  Monseigneur  F ,  our  most  rev- 
erend Vicar  Apostolic  of  the  Manchu  capital. 


IV 

OUR  GUARDS  ARRIVE 

31st  May,  1900. 


We  had  been  dining  out,  a  number  of  us,  this  evening, 
with  result  that  the  good  wine  and  the  good  fare,  for 
the  Peking  markets  are  admirable,  left  us  reasonably 
content  and  in  quite  a  valorous  spirit.  The  party  I  was 
at  was  neither  very  large  nor  very  small;  we  were  eigh- 
teen, to  be  exact,  and  the  political  situation  was  repre- 
sented in  all  its  gravity  by  the  presence  of  a 
Minister  and  his  spouse.  The  former  has  always  been 
pessimistic,  and  so  we  had  Boxers  for  soup,  Boxers  with 
the  entrees,  and  Boxers  to  the  end.  In  fact,  if  the  truth 
be  told,  the  Boxers  surrounded  us  in  a  constant  vapour 
of  words  so  formidable  that  one  might  well  have  reason 

to  be  alarmed.     P ,  the  Minister,  was,  indeed,  very 

talkative  and  gesticulative;  his  wife  was  sad  and  sighed 
constantly — elle  ponssait  des  soitpirs  tristes — at  the 
lurid  spectacle  her  husband's  words  conjured  up.  Ac- 
cording to  him,  anything  was  possible.  There  might 
be  sudden  massacres  in  Peking  itself — the  Chinese  Gov- 
ernment had  gone  mad.  Rendered  more  and  more  talk- 
ative by  the  wine  and  the  good  fare,  he  became  alarm- 
ing, menacing  in  the  end.  But  we  became  more  and 
more  valiant  as  we  ate  and  drank.     That  is  always  so. 

It  was  all  the  guards'  fault.  Telegrams  despatched 
in  the  morning  from  Tientsin  distinctly  told  us  that  the 


OUR  GUARDS   ARRIVE  23 

guards  were  entraining;  later  news  said  the  guards 
had  actually  started;  and  yet  when  we  were  almost 
through  dinner,  and  it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock,  there  was 
not  a  sign  of  them.  That  was  the  distressing  point,  and 
in  the  end,  as  it  thrust  itself  more  and  more  on  people's 
attention,  the  first  great  valour  began  to  ooze.  For  al- 
though the  Guardian  of  the  Nine  Gates — a  species  of 
Manchu  warden  or  grand  constable  of  Peking — has 
been  officially  warned  that  foreign  guards,  whose 
arrival  has  been  duly  authorised  by  the  Tsung-li  Yamen, 
may  be  a  little  late,  and  that  consequently  the  Ch'ien 
Men,  or  the  Middle  Gate,  should  be  kept  open  a  couple 
of  hours  longer,  the  chief  guardian  may  become  nervous 
and  irate  and  incontinently  shut  the  gates.  This  alone 
might  provoke  an  outbreak. 

This  train  of  thought  once  started,  we  busily  fol- 
lowed it  up,  and  soon  all  the  wives  were  sighing  in 
unison  more  heavily  than  ever.  I  shall  always  remem- 
ber what  happened  at  that  psychological  moment. 
A  strip  of  red-lined  native  writing-paper  was  placed  in 
somebody's  hands  with  a  long  list  of  the  different  de- 
tachments which  had  just  passed  in  through  the  Main 
Gate.  At  last  the  guards  had  arrived.  Speedily  we  be- 
came very  valorous  again.     P afterwards  said  that 

he  knew  something  which  he  had  not  dared  to  tell  any 
one — not  even  his  secretaries. 

From  this  little  list,  it  was  soon  clear  that  the  British, 
French,  Russian,  American,  Italian,  and  Japanese  de- 
tachments had  arrived.  The  Germans  and  the 
Austrians  were  missing,  but  we  concluded  that  they 
would  arrive  by  another  train  within  very  few  hours. 
The  important  point  was  that  men  had  been  allowed  to 
come  through — that  the  Chinese  Government,  in  spite 


24  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

of  its  enormous  capacity  for  mischief,  could  not  yet 
have  made  up  its  mind  how  to  act.     That  consoled  us. 

After  this,  a  faint-hearted  attempt  was  made  to  con- 
tinue our  talk.  But  it  was  no  good.  We  soon  dis- 
covered that  each  one  of  us  had  been  simulating  a  false 
interest  in  our  never-ending  discussion.  We  really 
wished  to  see  with  our  own  eyes  these  Legation  Guards 
who  might  still  save  the  situation. 

Strolling  out  in  the  warm  night,  just  as  we  were,  we 
first  came  on  them  in  the  French  Legation.  The  French 
detachment  were  merely  sailors  belonging  to  what  they 
call  their  Compagn'ies  de  debarquement,  and  they  were 
all  brushing  each  other  down  and  cursing  the  sacree 
poussiere.  Such  a  leading  motif  has  this  Peking  dust 
become  that  the  very  sailors  notice  it.  Also  we  found 
two  priests  from  Monseigneur  F 's  Cathedral,  sit- 
ting in  the  garden  and  patiently  waiting  for  the  Minis- 
ter's return.     I  heard  afterwards  that  they  would  not 

move    until    P decided    that    twenty-five    sailors 

should  march  the  next  day  to  the  Cathedral — in  fact  at 
daylight. 

In  all  the  Legations  I  found  it  was  much  the  same 
thing — the  men  of  the  various  detachments  were  brush- 
ing each  other  down  and  exchanging  congratulations 
that  they  had  been  picked  for  Peking  service.  It  was, 
perhaps,  only  because  they  were  so  glad  to  be  allotted 
shore-duty  after  interminable  service  afloat  off  China's 
muddy  coasts  that  they  congratulated  one  another;  but 
it  might  be  also  because  they  had  heard  tell  throughout 
the  fleets  that  the  men  who  had  come  in  '98,  after  the 
coup  d'etat,  had  had  the  finest  time  which  could  be 
imagined — all  loafing  and  no  duties.  They  did  not 
seem  to  understand  or  suspect.  .  .  . 


OUR  GUARDS  ARRIVE  25 

I  found  later  in  the  night  that  there  had  actually  been 
a  little  trouble  at  the  Tientsin  station.  The  British  had 
tried  to  get  through  a  hundred  marines  instead  of  the 
maximum  of  seventy-five  which  had  been  agreed  on. 
The  Chinese  authorities  had  then  refused  to  let  the 
train  go,  and  although  an  English  ship's  captain  had 
threatened  to  hang  the  station-master,  in  the  end  the 
point  was  won  by  the  Chinese.  By  one  or  two  in  the 
morning  everybody  was  very  gay,  walking  about  and 
having  drinks  with  one  another,  and  saying  that  it  was 
all  right  now.  Then  it  was  that  I  remembered  that  it 
was  already  June — the  historic  month  which  has  seen 
more  crises  than  any  other — and  I  became  a  little 
gloomy  again.  It  was  so  terribly  sultry  and  dry  that  it 
seemed  as  if  anything  could  happen.  I  felt  convinced 
that  the  guards  were  too  few. 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS 

4th  June,  1900. 


No  matter  in  what  light  you  look  at  it,  you  realise 
that  somehow — in  some  wonderful,  inexplicable 
manner — normal  conditions  have  ceased  long  ago — in 
the  month  of  May,  I  believe.  The  days,  which  a  couple 
of  weeks  ago  had  but  twenty-four  hours,  have  now  at 
least  forty-two.  You  cannot  exactly  say  why  this 
strange  state  of  affairs  obtains,  for  as  yet  there  is  noth- 
ing very  definite  to  fix  upon,  and  you  have  absolutely  no 
physical  sensation  of  fear;  but  the  mercury  of  both  the 
barometer  and  the  thermometer  has  been  somehow 
badly  shaken,  and  the  mainsprings  of  all  watches  and 
clocks,  although  still  much  as  the  mainsprings  of  clocks 
and  watches  in  other  parts  of  the  world — bringing  your 
mind  to  bear  on  it  you  know  they  are  exactly  the  same 
— are  merely  mechanism,  and  allow  the  day  to  have  at 
least  forty-two  hours.  It  is  strange,  is  it  not,  and  you 
begin  to  understand  vaguely  some  of  the  quite  impossi- 
ble Indian  metaphysics  which  tell  you  gravely  that  what 
is  is  not,  and  that  what  is  not  can  still  be.  .  .  .  In 
the  crushing  heat  you  can  understand  that. 

Perhaps  it  is  all  because  the  hours  are  now  split  into 
ten  separate  and  different  parts  by  the  fierce  rumours 
which  rage  for  a  few  minutes  and  then,  dissipating  their 
strength  through  their  very  violence,  die  away  as  sud 


THE  PLOT  THICKENS  27 

denly  as  they  came.  The  air  is  charged  with  electricity 
of    human    passions    until    it    throbs    painfully,     and 

then You  are  merrily  eating  your  tiffin  or  your 

dinner,  and  quite  calmly  cursing  your  "boy"  because 
something  is  not  properly  iced.  Your  "boy"  who  is  a 
Bannerman  or  Manchu  and  of  Roman  Catholic  family, 
as  are  all  servants  of  polite  Peking  society,  does  not 
move  a  muscle  nor  show  any  passing  indignation,  as  he 
would  were  the  ordinary  rules  and  regulations  of  life 
still  in  existence.  He,  like  every  one  of  the  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  Peking  and  the  millions  of  North 
China,  is  waiting — waiting  more  patiently  than  im- 
patient Westerners,  but  waiting  just  as  anxiously;  wait- 
ing with  ear  wide  open  to  every  rumour;  waiting  with 
an  eye  on  every  shadow — to  know  whether  the  storm 
is  going  to  break  or  blow  away.  There  is  something  dis- 
concerting, startling,  unseemly  in  being  waited  on  by 
those  who  you  know  are  in  turn  waiting  on  battle,  mur- 
der, and  sudden  death.  You  feel  that  something  may 
come  suddenly  at  any  moment,  and  though  you  do  not 
dare  to  speak  your  thoughts  to  your  neighbour,  these 
thoughts  are  talking  busily  to  you  without  a  second's  in- 
terruption. For  if  this  storm  truly  comes,  it  must  sweep 
everything  before  it  and  blot  us  all  out  in  a  horrible 
way.    Our  servants  tell  us  so. 

These  servants  of  polite  Peking  society  are  favoured 
mortals,  for  they  one  and  all  are  of  the  Eight  Banners, 
direct  descendants  of  the  Manchu  conquerors  of  China. 
And,  strangely  enough,  although  they  are  thus  directly 
tied  to  the  Manchu  dynasty,  and  that  some  of  them  may 
be  even  Red  Girdles  or  lineal  descendants  of  collateral 
branches  of  the  Imperial  house,  they  are  still  more 
tightly  tied  to  the  foreigner  because  they  are  Roman 


28  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

Catholic  dating  from  the  early  days  of  Verbiest  and 
Schall,  when  the  Jesuits  were  all  supreme.  On  Sun- 
days and  feast  days  they  all  proceed  to  the  Vicar  Apos- 
tolus own  northern  cathedral,  and  witness  the  Eleva- 
tion of  the  Host  to  the  discordant  and  strange  sound 
of  Chinese  firecrackers,  a  curious  accompaniment,  in- 
deed, permitted  only  by  Catholic  complacency.  This 
they  love  more  than  the  Throne. 

Your  Bannerman  servant  is  now  the  medium 
of  bringing  in  countless  rumours  which  he  barefacedly 
alleges  are  facts,  and  in  impressing  on  you.  that  every 
one  must  certainly  die  unless  we  quickly  act.  The  three 
Roman  Catholic  Cathedrals  of  Peking,  placed  at  three 
points  of  the  compass,  are  almost  strategic  centres  sur- 
rounded by  whole  lanes  and  districts  of  Catholics  cap- 
tured to  the  tenets  of  Christ,  or  that  portion  deemed  suf- 
ficient for  yellow  men,  in  ages  gone  by.  Every  house- 
hold of  these  people  during  the  past  few  weeks  has  seen 
fellow-religionists  from  the  country  places  running  in 
sorely  distressed  in  body  and  mind,  and  but  ill-equipped 
in  money  and  means  for  this  impromptu  escape  to  the 
capital  which  every  one  vainly  hopes  generally  is  to  be  a 
sanctuary.  The  refugees,  it  is  true,  do  not  receive  all 
the  sympathy  they  expect,  for  the  Peking  Catholic  being 
the  oldest  and  most  mature  in  the  eighteen  provinces  of 
China,  holds  his  head  very  high,  and  "new  people" — 
that  is,  those  whose  families  have  only  been  baptized,  let 
us  say,  during  the  nineteenth  century — are  somewhat  dis- 
dained. In  a  word,  the  Peking  cathedrals  and  their 
Manchu  and  other  adherents  are  the  Blacks;  and  not 
even  in  papal  Rome  could  this  aristocracy  in  religion 
be  excelled.  But  although  the  newcomers  are  disdained, 
their  news  is  not.    Everything  they  say  is  believed. 


THE   PLOT  THICKENS  29 

The  servants,  therefore,  browsing  rumours  wherever 
they  go,  bring  back  a  curious  hotchpotch  after  each 
separate  excursion.  Sometimes  the  balance  swings  this 
way,  sometimes  that;  sometimes  it  is  ominously  black, 
sometimes  only  cloudy.  You  never  know  what  it  will  be 
ten  minutes  hence,  and  you  must  content  yourself  as  best 
you  can.  Your  body-servant  being  a  Bannerman  (my 
particular  one  is  a  Manchu),  and  being  reasonably 
young,  is  also  a  reservist  of  the  Peking  Field  Force,  and 
consorts  with  other  Bannermen  who  may  be  actually 
on  guard  at  one  of  the  Palace  gates.  Who  passes  in  and 
who  passes  out  of  the  Palace  now  spreads  like  wildfire 
round  the  whole  city,  for  the  success  of  the  Boxers  will 
depend  upon  the  support  the  Peking  Government  in- 
tends to  give  them  when  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst. 
And  the  Peking  Government  is  still  fencing,  because 
the  Palace  cannot  make  up  its  mind  whether  the  time 
has  really  come  when  it  must  act.  This  lack  of  decision 
is  fatal. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  it  transpired  that  the  Empress 
Dowager  was  not  in  the  Imperial  city  at  all,  but  out  at 
the  Summer  Palace  on  the  Wan-shou-shan — the  hills 
of  ten  thousand  ages,  as  these  are  poetically  called. 
Tung  Fu-hsiang,  whose  ruffianly  Kansu  braves  were 
marched  out  of  the  Chinese  city — that  is  the  outer  ring 
of  Peking — two  nights  before  the  Legation  Guards 
came  in,  is  also  with  the  Empress,  for  his  cavalry  ban- 
ners, made  of  black  and  blue  velvet,  with  blood-red 
characters  splashed  splendidly  across  them,  have  been 
seen  planted  at  the  foot  of  the  hills.  Tung  Fu-hsiang  is 
an  invincible  one,  who  stamped  out  the  Kansu  rebellion 
a  few  years  ago  with  such  fierceness  that  his  name  strikes 
terror  to-day  into   every   Chinese   heart.     As   for   P'i 


30  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

Hsiaoo-li — the   false   eunuch — he   is   everywhere,   they 
say,    sometimes    here,     sometimes     there,     and     quite 
defying    search.      The    eunuch    has    a    mighty    for- 
tune at  stake,  and  all  natives  believe*  that  he  will  betray 
himself.     Half  the  pawnshops  and  banks  of  Peking  be- 
long to  him,  and  he  will  not  sacrifice  his  thirty  million 
taels  until  he  is  convinced  that  his  head  is  at  stake.    The 
Summer  Palace  lies  but  a  dozen  miles  beyond  Peking's 
embattled  walls,  and  from  the  top,  straining  your  eyes 
to    the    west,    you    can    vaguely    see    the    Empress's 
plaisaunce.    A  journey  in  and  out  is  nothing  by  cart,  and 
this  favoured  eunuch  has  the  best  mules  in  the  Empire — 
black  jennets  fifteen   hands  high — and  is  using  them 
night  and  day.    And  so  every  one  is  asking  again  and 
again  whether  the  Empress  has  arranged  with  Prince 
Tuan,  since  that  is  the  burning  question;  and  did  this 
eunuch  of  eunuchs  have  his  fateful  confidential  interview 
with  the  secret  Boxer  leaders,  which  was  to  decide  finally 
on  extermination. 

The  families  of  other  palace  eunuchs  say  yes,  and  the 
wife  of  one  eunuch,  living  near  the  South  Cathedral,  is 
quite  positive,  my  servants  inform  me.  Wife  of  a 
eunuch,  did  I  say?  You  will  think  me  mad,  but  it  is 
nevertheless  true,  for  Chinese  eunuchs  have  wives.  Why 
have  they  wives,  you  will  ask,  since  they  are  only  half 
men,  and  cannot  perform  the  duties  of  the  male?  Well, 
I  can  only  answer  as  did  my  teacher  once  when  I  asked 
him  years  ago.  "Eunuchs  are  still  men,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing doubtfully,  "insomuch  as  they  like  homes  of  their 
own  beyond  the  Palace  walls  and  desire  children  to  play 
with.  Since  their  wives  can  bear  no  children  they  buy 
children  from  poor  people,  and  these  duly  become  their 
own.    Thus  when  the  eunuch  dies  he  has  children  to 


THE   PLOT  THICKENS  31 

worship  at  his  grave."  In  this  land  of  mystery  even 
eunuchs  can  correctly  become  ancestors.  Yet  this  is  a 
trivial  detail  which  I  should  not  speak  of. 

So  the  eunuch's  wife  living  near  the  South  Cathedral, 
who  gossips  with  her  Black  Catholic  neighbours,  and 
whose  gossip  gives  me  news  many  times  a  day,  avers 
most  positively  that  the  chief  eunuch  has  been  in  town — 
that  the  whole  matter  has  been  decided — and  that  every 
foreigner  will  die.  And  very  late  in  the  evening  my 
Manchu  servant  rushed  in  on  me  with  his  eyes  sparkling 
strangely,  and  his  voice  so  hoarse  with  excitement  that  he 
did  not  speak,  but  shouted.  "Master,"  he  cried,  "I  have 
seen  myself  this  time;  three  long  carts  full  of  swords 
and  spears  have  passed  in  from  the  outer  city  through 
the  Ha-ta  Gate.  The  city  guards  stopped  and  ques- 
tioned the  drivers — then  let  them  go.  They  had  a  pass 
from  the  Governor  of  Peking,  and  the  people  all  say  it  is 
now  coming."  Now  do  you  wonder  about  our  clocks 
and  our  watches,  and  our  time?  Nothing  can  ever  be 
normal  again  until  this  terrible  question  is  solved. 


VI 

THE  LICKING  FLAMES  APPROACH 

9th  June,    1900. 


It  is  getting  desperate,  of  that  there  is  now  no  shadow 
of  doubt.  The  Tientsin  trains  that  have  been 
lately  running  more  and  more  slowly  and  irregularly,  as 
if  they,  too,  were  waiting  on  the  pleasure  of  the  coming 
storm,  are  going  to  run  no  more,  and  the  odds  are  heav- 
ily against  to-day's  train  ever  reaching  its  destination.  It 
is  true  these  trains  have  long  ceased  running  as  far  as  we 
are  personally  concerned,  for  the  weariness  of  living 
forty-two  hours  during  twenty-four  dulls  one's  percep- 
tion of  everything  excepting  one's  immediate  surround- 
ings. And  even  one's  surroundings  are  somehow  shrink- 
ing until  they  will  soon  be  but  the  four  walls  of  a  court- 
yard. But  about  the  trains — why  are  they  stopping? 
Because  the  licking  flames  are  approaching  so  near  that 
they  will  soon  overwhelm  all  who  are  concerned  with  the 
running  of  trains  unless  they  disappear  very  nimbly. 
One  of  the  Chinese  railway  managers,  an  educated  man 
in  the  Western  sense  who  can  quote  Shakespeare,  has 
been  all  over  Legation  Street  yesterday  and  to-day,  point- 
ing out  the  hopelessness  of  the  general  position  and  al- 
most openly  urging  the  Legations  to  call  on  Europe  to 
take  steps.  General  Nieh,  an  intelligent  general,  with 
foreign-drilled  troops,  has  indeed  been  fitfully  ordered 
by  Imperial  Edict  to  "protect  the  railway,"  and  to  keep 
communication  open,  but  this  order  has  already  come  to 


THE   LICKING   FLAMES   APPROACH  33 

nothing,  and  the  position  is  worse  than  it  was  before. 
His  troops,  merely  desirous  of  testing  their  brand-new 
Mausers,  and  as  calmly  cruel  as  only  Easterns  can  be, 
did  open  a  heavy  fire  a  day  or  two  ago  on  some  Boxer 
marauders  who  had  strayed  into  a  station  on  the 
Tientsin-Peking  line,  and  proposed  to  crucify  the  native 
station-master  and  beat  all  others,  who  were  indirectly 
eating  the  foreign  devils'  rice  by  working  on  the  railway, 
into  lumps  of  jelly.  General  Nieh's  men  let  their  rifles 
crash  off,  not  because  their  sympathies  were  against  the 
Boxers,  but  probably  because  every  living  man  armed 
with  a  rifle  loves  to  fire  at  another  living  man  when  he 
can  do  so  without  harm  to  himself.  This  is  my  brutal 
explanation.  But  in  any  case  these  soldiers  have  now 
been  marched  off  in  semi-disgrace  to  their  camp  at  Lutai, 
a  few  miles  to  the  north  of  Tientsin,  and  told  never  to  do 
such  rash  and  indiscreet  things  again.  That  means  the 
end  of  any  attempts  to  control.  For  the  Boxer  partisans 
in  Peking  allege  that  the  soldiers  actually  hit  and  killed 
a  good  many  men,  which  is  quite  without  precedent,  and 
is  upsetting  all  plans.  On  such  occasions  it  is  always 
understood  that  you  fire  a  little  in  the  air,  warwhoop  a 
good  deal,  and  then  come  back  quietly  to  camp  with  cap- 
tured flags  and  banners  as  undeniable  evidences  of  your 
victory.  This  has  been  the  old  method  of  making  do- 
mestic war  in  China — the  only  one. 

But  all  this  is  many  miles  from  the  sacred  capital. 
The  cry  is  still  that  we  of  Peking  are  safe,  and  that  even 
if  this  is  to  be  a  true  rebeLlion  we  cannot  be  hurt.  The 
cry,  however,  is  not  so  lusty  as  it  was  even  three  or  four 
days  ago,  and,  indeed,  has  only  become  an  official  cry — 
that  is,  one  you  are  permitted  to  contradict  privately 
when  you  meet  your  dear  colleagues  in  the  street  and 


34  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

wonder  aloud  what  is  really  going  to  happen.  In  the 
despatches  Peking  is  still  quite  safe,  although  unwhole- 
some. Yet  our  own  private  political  situations,  of 
which  we  were  so  proud  and  talked  so  vauntingly, 
have  all  now  disappeared,  miserable  things,  and 
are  quite  lost  and  forgotten.  No  one  cares  to  talk  about 
them.  People  merely  say  that  all  business  is  temporarily 
suspended;  that  we  must  wait  and  merely  mark  time. 

But  we  discovered  something  worth  knowing  at  the  last 
moment  to-day  which  is,  without  any  doubt,  true.  The 
Empress  Dowager  returned  to-day  from  the  Summer 
Palace,  and  is  now  actually  in  the  Forbidden  City.  We 
are  at  a  loss  to  know  exactly  as  yet  what  this  means,  and 
whether  it  is  an  augury  of  good  or  of  bad.  The  Winter 
Palace  is  so  near  us ;  it  is  just  to  the  west  of  us.  The  fact 
that  the  redoubtable  Tung  Fu-hsiang  rode  behind  his 
Imperial  mistress  with  his  banner-bearers  flaunting  their 
colours  and  his  trumpets  blaring  as  loudly  as  possible  is, 
however,  not  very  reassuring.  It  seemed  like  defiance 
and  treachery. 

But  at  first,  in  spite  of  the  Empress's  entry,  there 
were  not  many  rumours  accompanying  her;  in  the  late 
afternoon  they  came  so  thick  and  fast  that  no  one  had 
time  to  write  them  down.  But  of  rumours  we  have  had 
more  than  our  bellyful.    Let  me  tell  some  of  the  facts. 

First  and  foremost.  The  racecourse  grand-stand 
where  less  than  a  month  ago  we  were  all  watching  the 
struggles  for  victory  between  our  various  short-legged 
ponies,  has  gone  up  in  flames  and  puff — just  like  that — 
the  social  battle-ground  is  no  more.  The  Boxers,  for 
everybody  who  does  anything  nowadays  is  a  Boxer,  tried 
to  grill  our  official  caretakers  on  the  red-hot  bricks,  but 
the  neighbouring  village  came  to  the  rescue  and  shouted 


THE  LICKING  FLAMES   APPROACH  35 

the  marauders  out  of  the  place.  That  is  the  nearest 
danger  which  has  been  heard  of.  Immediately  after  this 
some  Legation  students,  riding  out  on  the  sands  under 
the  Tartar  Wall,  were  openly  attacked  by  spear-armed 
men,  and  only  escaped  by  galloping  furiously  and  firing 
the  revolvers  which  every  one  now  carries.  Most  im- 
portant of  all,  however,  to  us  is  that  aged  Sir  R 

H is  hauling  down  his  colours,  and  has  been  rapidly 

calling  in  all  his  scattered  staff  who  live  near  the  premises 
of  the  Tsung-li  Yamen — China's  Foreign  Office.  Here 
we  are,  the  Legations  of  all  Europe,  with  five  hundred 
sailors  and  marines  cleaning  their  rifles  and  marking  out 
distances  in  the  capital  of  a  so-called  friendly  Power; 
with  our  pro  forma  despatches  still  being  despatched 
while  our  real  messages  are  frightened;  attempting  to 
weather  a  storm  which  the  Chinese  Government  is  pow- 
erless to  arrest.  The  very  passers-by  are  becoming  sheep- 
eyed  and  are  looking  at  us  askance. 

Passers-by,  did  I  say?  But  do  not  imagine  from  this 
that  there  are  many  of  these,  for  the  Chinese  have  been 
for  days  avoiding  the  Legation  quarter  as  if  it  were 
plague-stricken,  and  sounds  that  were  so  roaring  a  few 
weeks  ago  are  now  daily  becoming  more  and  more 
scarce.  A  blight  is  settling  on  us,  for  we  are  accursed 
by  the  whole  population  of  North  China,  and  who  knows 
what  will  be  the  fate  of  those  seen  lurking  near  the 
foreigner  ? 

And  now  when  we  wander  even  in  our  own  streets — 
that  is,  those  abutting  immediately  on  our  compounds 
of  the  Legation  area — a  new  nickname  salutes  our  ears. 
No  longer  are  we  mere  yang  kuei-tzu,  foreign  devils; 
we  have  risen  to  the  proud  estate  of  ta  mao-tzn,  or  long- 
haired ones  of  the  first  class.    Mao-tzu  is  a  term  of  some 


36  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

contemptuous  strength,  since  mao  is  the  hair  of  animals, 
and  our  barbarian  heads  are  not  even  shaved.  The  ta 
— great  or  first  class — is  also  significant,  because  behind 
our  own  detested  class  press  two  others  deserving  of 
almost  equal  contempt  at  the  hands  of  all  believers  in 
divine  Boxerism.  These  are  ehr-mao-tzu  and  san  mao- 
tzu,  second  and  third  class  coarse-haired  ones.  All  good 
converts  belong  to  the  second  class,  and  death  awaits 
them,  our  servants  say;  while  as  to  the  third  category, 
all  having  any  sort  of  connection,  direct  or  indirect,  with 
the  foreigner  and  his  works  are  lumped  indiscriminately 
together  in  this  one,  and  should  be  equally  detested.  The 
small  talk  of  the  tea-shops  now  even  says  that  officials 
having  a  few  sticks  of  European  furniture  in  their  houses 
are  san  mao-tzu.  It  is  very  significant,  too,  this  open 
talk  in  the  tea-shops,  because  in  official  Peking,  the  very 
centre  of  the  enormous,  loose-jointed  Empire,  political 
gossip  is  severely  disliked  and  the  four  characters,  "mo 
fan  kuo  shih"  (eschew  political  discussions),  are  skied 
in  every  public  room.  People  in  the  old  days  of  last 
month  heeded  this  four-character  warning,  for  a  bam- 
booing  at  the  nearest  police-station,  ting  erh,  was  always 
a  possibility.    Now  every  one  can  do  as  he  likes. 

It  is,  therefore,  becoming  patent  to  the  most  blind  that 
this  is  going  to  be  something  startling,  something 
eclipsing  any  other  anti-foreign  movement  ever 
heard  of,  because  never  before  have  the  users 
of  foreign  imports  and  the  mere  friends  of  for- 
eigners been  labelled  in  a  class  just  below  that  of  the 
foreigners  themselves.  And  then  as  it  became  dark  to- 
day, a  fresh  wave  of  excitement  broke  over  the  city  and 
produced  almost  a  panic.  The  main  body  of  Tung  Fu- 
hsiang's  savage  Kansu  braves — that  is,  his  whole  army 


THE   LICKING   FLAMES   APPROACH  37 

- — re-entered  the  capital  and  rapidly  encamped  on  the 
open  places  in  front  of  the  Temples  of  Heaven  and  Agri- 
culture in  the  outer  ring  of  Peking.  This  settled  it,  I 
am  glad  to  say.  At  last  all  the  Legations  shivered,  and 
urgent  telegrams  were  sent  to  the  British  admiral  for 
reinforcements  to  be  rushed  up  at  all  costs. 

But  too  late — too  late;  the  Manchu  servants  who  have 
friends  among  the  guards  at  the  Palace  gates  have 
said  this  all  the  evening.  For  the  Chinese  Colossus,  lum- 
bering and  lazy,  sluggish  and  ill-equipped,  has  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow,  and  with  sheep-like  and  calculating 
eyes  is  looking  down  on  us — a  pigmy-like  collection  of 
foreigners  and  their  guards — and  soon  will  risk  a  kick — 
perhaps  even  will  trample  us  quickly  to  pieces.  How  bit- 
terly every  one  is  regretting  our  false  confidence,  and 
how  our  chiefs  are  being  cursed! 


VII 

THE  CITY  OF  PEKING  AND  ALL  ITS  GLORIES 

nth  June,  1900. 


You  do  not  know  this  Capital  of  Capitals,  perhaps 
— that  is,  you  do  not  know  it  as  you  should  if  the  scenes 
which  may  presently  move  'across  the  stage,  now  in  shout- 
ing crowds  of  sword-armed  men,  now  in  pitiable  inci- 
dents of  small  account,  are  to  be  properly  understood, 
and  their  dramatic  setting,  stirring,  blood-thrilling,  in- 
congruous as  they  must  be  and  can  only  be.  I  feel  that 
something  will  come — I  even  know  it.  I  have  been 
talking  vaguely  about  this  and  about  that;  have  begun 
preparing  colours,  as  it  were,  in  the  usual  careless 
fashion  without  explanations  or  digressions — until  you 
possibly  wonder  what  it  is  all  about.  For  you  have  not 
yet  seen  the  barbaric  frame  which  will  hedge  in  the  whole 
— the  barbaric  frame  in  all  truth,  since  it  is  gradually 
closing  in  on  us  on  every  side  until,  like  some  mediaeval 
torture-room,  we  may  have  the  very  life  crushed  out  of 
us  by  a  cruel  pressure.  But  enough  of  fine  phrases ;  while 
there  is  time  let  me  write  something. 

Peking  is  at  least  two  thousand  years  old.  Several 
hundred  years  before  Christ,  they  say  a  Chinese  kingdom 
made  the  present  site  the  capital,  and  began  building 
the  outer  walls ;  but  the  Chinese,  the  gentler  Chinese  who 
had  all  military  spirit  crushed  out  of  them  five  thousand 
years  before  by  having  to  tramp  from  Mesopotamia  to 


CITY  OF  PEKING  AND  ALL  ITS  GLORIES       S9 

where  they  now  are  in  the  eighteen  provinces,  these  Chi- 
nese, I  say,  never  had  in  Peking  anything  but  a  tempo- 
rary trysting-place.  For  Peking  stands  for  a  sort  of  blat- 
ant barbarianism,  mounted  on  sturdy  ponies,  pouring  in 
from  the  far  North;  and  the  history  of  Peking  can  only 
be  said  to  begin  when  Mongol-Tartars,  who  have  always 
been  freebooters  and  robbers,  forced  their  way  in  and 
imposed  their  militarism  on  a  nation  of  shopkeepers  and 
collectors  of  taxes. 

Even  before  the  Christian  era,  the  Chinese  chronicles 
tell  of  the  pressure  of  these  fierce  barbarians  from  the 
North  being  so  much  felt  and  their  raids  so  constant,  that 
Chi  Huang-ti,  the  ruler  of  the  powerful  Chinese  feuda- 
tory state  which  laid  the  foundations  of  the  present  Em- 
pire of  China,  began  to  build  the  Great  Wall  of  China 
and  to  fortify  old  Peking  as  the  only  means  of  stopping 
these  living  waves.  The  Great  Wall  took  ages  to  build, 
for  the  Northern  barbarians  always  kept  cunningly  slip- 
ping round  the  uncompleted  ends,  and  the  Mings,  the 
last  purely  Chinese  sovereigns  to  reign  in  Peking,  actu^ 
ally  added  three  hundred  miles  to  this  colossal  structure 
in  the  year  1547,  or  nearly  two  thousand  years  after  the 
first  bricks  had  been  cemented.  That  shows  you  what 
people  they  were,  and  what  the  contest  was. 

For  hundreds  of  years  the  war  with  the  semi-nomadic 
hordes  of  the  North  continued.  Sometimes  isolated  bands 
of  Tartars  broke  through  the  Chinese  defence  and  en- 
slaved the  people,  but  never  for  very  long;  instinctively 
by  the  use  of  every  stratagem  the  cleverer  Chinese  com- 
passed their  destruction.  While  Attila  and  his  Huns 
were  ravaging  Europe  in  the  fifth  century,  other 
Hwingnoo,  or  Huns,  veritable  scourges  of  God,  forced 
their  way  into  China.    In  this  fashion,  while  China  itself 


40  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

was  passing  through  a  dozen  different  forms  of  govern- 
ment, and  had  a  dozen  capitals — sometimes  owning  alle- 
giance to  a  single  Emperor  such  as  those  of  the  T'ang 
dynasty  who  added  Canton  and  the  Cantonese  to  the 
Empire,  sometimes  split  into  petty  kingdoms  such  as  the 
"Ten  States"— this  curious  frontier  war  continued  and 
was  handed  down  from  father  to  son.  Chinese  indus- 
trialism and  socialism,  content  to  accept  whatever  form 
of  government  Chinese  strong  men  succeeded  in  impos- 
ing, instinctively  kept  up  an  iron  resistance  to  these 
Northern  invaders.  Such  was  the  fear  inspired,  that  a 
proverb  coined  thousands  of  years  ago  is  still  current. 
"Do  not  fear  the  cock  from  the  South,  but  the  wolf  from 
the  North,"  it  says.  Everybody  is  always  quoting  this 
saying.     I  have  heard  it  twice  to-day. 

It  was  not  until  the  tenth  century  that  the  Tartars 
finally  broke  through  and  established  themselves  defini- 
tively on  Chinese  soil.  The  Khitans,  a  Manchu-Tartar 
people,  springing  from  Central  Manchuria,  then  cap- 
tured Peking  and  made  it  their  capital.  The  Khitans 
were  a  cheerful  people,  with  a  peculiar  sense  of  humour 
and  a  still  greater  conviction  of  the  inferiority  of  women. 
To  show  their  contempt  for  them,  it  is  still  recorded  that 
they  used  to  slit  the  back  of  their  wives  and  drink  their 
blood  to  give  them  strength.  For  two  and  a  half  cen- 
turies the  Khitans,  under  the  style  of  the  Liao  or  Iron 
dynasty,  maintained  their  position  by  the  use  of  the 
sword,  and  then  succumbing  to  the  sapping  influence  of 
Chinese  civilisation,  they  in  turn  were  unable  to  resist 
a  second  Manchu-Mongol  horde,  the  Kins.  The  Kins, 
under  the  style  of  the  Silver  dynasty,  reigned  in  North- 
ern China  for  a  term  of  years,  but  there  was  nothing  of 
a  permanent  character  in  their  rule,  since  they  were  un- 


CITY  OF  PEKING  AND  ALL  ITS  GLORIES       41 

couth  barbarians  who  soon  drank  themselves  to  death 
and  destruction. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century  Genghis 
Khan,  the  great  Mongol,  born  in  the  bleak  Hsing-an 
Mountains,  gathered  together  all  the  restless  bands  of 
Mongolia,  and  sweeping  down  on  Peking  drove  out  the 
Kins  and  established  the  purely  Mongol  dynasty  of  the 
Yuan.  Up  till  then  Peking  had  consisted  of  what  is  to- 
day the  Chinese  city,  or  the  older  outer  city.  Kublai 
Khun,  Genghis's  grandson,  fixed  his  residence  definitively 
in  Peking  in  1264,  and  began  building  the  Ta-tu,  or 
Great  Residence — the  Tartar  city  of  to-day.  The 
Chinese  city  is  oblong;  the  Tartar  city  is  squat  and 
square  and  overlaps  and  dominates  the  northern  walls 
of  the  older  city.  Kublai  Khan,  by  building  the  Tartar 
city  on  the  northern  edge  of  the  Chinese  city  and  fortify- 
ing it  with  immense  strength,  may  be  said  to  have  fitted 
the  spear-head  on  to  the  Chinese  shaft,  and  to  have 
given  the  key-note  to  the  policy  which  exists  to  this  day 
— the  policy  of  the  North  of  China  dominating  the 
South  of  China. 

In  time  the  Yiian  dynasty  of  Mongols  passed  away — 
their  strength  sapped  by  confinement  to  walled  cities 
because  their  power  was  only  on  the  tented  field.  Ser 
Marco  Polo,  that  audacious  traveller,  never  tires  of 
telling  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Mongol  Khans  and 
their  resplendent  courts.  It  requires  no  Marco  Polo  to 
assure  us  that  the  thirteenth  century  of  the  Far  East 
was  immeasurably  in  advance  of  the  thirteenth  century 
of  Europe.  The  vast  and  magnificent  works  which  re- 
main to  this  day,  weather-beaten  though  they  be;  the 
fierce  reds,  the  wonderful  greens,  the  boldness  and  size 

of  everything,  speak  to  us  of  an  age  which  knew  of 


42  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

mighty  conquests  of  all  Asia  by  invincible  Mongol  horse- 
men. .  .  . 
The  Mongols  were  succeeded  by  the  Mings — a  purely 
Chinese  house;  but  the  Mings,  in  some  terror  of  the 
rough  North,  since  for  over  four  centuries  Tartars  or 
Manchu-Mongols  had  been  the  overlords  of  China,  dis- 
creetly established  their  capital  on  the  Yangtsze  and 
called  it  Nanking,  or  the  Southern  capital.  It  was  only 
the  third  Emperor  of  the  Mings  who  dared  to  remove 
the  court  to  Peking.  His  choice  was  ill  made  for  his 
dynasty,  since  a  century  and  a  half  had  hardly  passed 
before  fresh  hordes — the  modern  Manchus — began  to 
gather  strength  in  the  mountains  and  valleys  to  the  north- 
east of  Moukden.  Fighting  stubbornly,  Nurhachu,  the 
founder  of  this  new  enterprise,  steadily  broke  through 
Chinese  resistance  in  the  Liaotung,  then  a  Chinese  prov- 
ince colonised  from  Chihli,  and  slowly  but  surely  reached 
out  towards  Peking,  the  goal  which  beckons  to  every  one. 
The  Great  Wall,  built  eighteen  hundred  years  before 
as  a  protection  against  other  barbarians  of  the  same 
stock,  stopped  Nurhachu  a  hundred  times,  and  although 
he  captured  Moukden  and  made  it  a  Manchu  capital,  he 
died  worn  out  by  half  a  century  of  warfare.  His  son, 
Tai  Tsung,  or  Tien  Tsung,  nothing  daunted,  took  up 
the  struggle,  and  finding  it  impossible  to  break  through 
the  fortifications  of  the  East,  near  Shanhai-kwan, 
adopted  Genghis  Khan's  route — the  passes  leading  in 
from  the  great  grassy  plains  of  Mongolia  many  hun- 
dreds of  miles  to  the  West.  Allying  himself  by  mar- 
riage with  Mongols,  the  Manchu  monarch  began  a  series 
of  grand  raids  through  their  territory  in  the  direction 
of  Peking.  Once  he  actually  reached  Peking  and  sat 
down  in  front  of  its  mighty  walls  to  besiege  it.    But  he 


CITY  OF  PEKING  AND  ALL  ITS  GLORIES       43 

found  his  strength  unequal  to  the  task,  and  once  more 
was  forced  to  retire.  Then  this  second  Manchu  prince 
died,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  tiny  grandson  of  five.  The 
regent  appointed  by  the  Manchu  nobles  owed  his  final 
success  to  the  fact  that  he  was  called  in  by  the  Chinese 
generals  commanding  the  coveted  Shanhai-kwan  gates 
to  rescue  Peking  from  the  hands  of  Chinese  insurgents, 
who  had  everywhere  arisen;  and  in  1644,  after  seventy 
years  of  warfare,  the  Manchus  seated  themselves  on  the 
Dragon  Throne,  in  defiance  of  the  wishes  of  the  people,, 
but  backed  up  by  a  vast  concourse  of  Manchus  and  Mon- 
gols, and  half  the  fierce  blades  of  Eastern  Asia. 

The  history  of  all  these  centuries  of  warfare  is  elo- 
quently written  on  all  the  buildings,  the  fortifications, 
the  monuments,  the  palaces  and  temples  of  Peking  which 
surround  us.  Peking  is  the  Delhi  of  China,  and  the 
grave  of  warlike  barbarians.  Four  separate  times  have 
Tartars  broken  in  and  founded  dynasties,  and  four 
separate  times  have  Chinese  culture  and  civilisation 
sapped  rugged  strength,  and  made  the  rulers  the  de  facto 
servants  of  the  ceremonious  inhabitants.  In  the  Tartar 
city  there  are  Yellow  Lama  temples,  with  hundreds  of 
bare-pated  lama  priests,  the  results  of  Buddhist  Concor- 
dats guaranteeing  Thibetan  semi-independence  in  return 
for  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of  Chinese  suzerainty. 
Near  the  Palace  walls  is  a  Mongolian  Superintendency, 
where  the  Mongol  hordes  still  grazing  their  herds  and 
their  flocks  on  the  grassy  plains  of  high  Asia,  as  they 
have  done  for  countless  centuries,  are  divided  up  into 
Banners,  or  military  divisions,  showing  the  enormous 
strength  in  irregular  cavalry  they  possessed  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago.  Round  the  Forbidden  City  are  the 
Six  Boards  and  the  Nine  Ministries,  the  outward  signs 


44  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

of  those  bonds  of  etiquette  and  procedure  which  bind 
the  Manchu  Throne  to  the  eighteen  provinces.  The 
walls  of  the  Tartar  city  heave  up  fifty  feet  in  the  air, 
and  are  forty  feet  thick.  The  circumference  of  the  outer 
ring  of  fortifications  is  over  twenty  miles.  Each  gate 
is  surmounted  by  a  square  three-storied  tower  or  pagoda, 
vast  and  imposing.  Round  the  city  and  through  the  city 
run  century-old  canals  and  moats  with  water-gates  shut- 
ting down  with  cruel  iron  prongs.  In  the  Chinese  city 
the  two  Temples  of  Heaven  and  Agriculture  raise  their 
altars  to  the  skies,  invoking  the  help  of  the  deities  for 
this  decaying  but  proud  Chinese  Empire.  Think  of  the 
millions  of  dead  hands  that  fashioned  such  enormous 
strength  and  old-time  magnificence !  On  the  corner  of 
the  Tartar  Wall  is  the  old  Jesuit  Observatory  with  beau- 
tiful dragon-adorned  instruments  of  bronze  given  by  a 
Louis  of  France.  There  are  temples  with  yellow- 
gowned  or  grey-gowned  priests  in  their  hundreds 
founded  in  the  times  of  Kublai  Khan.  There  are 
Mohammedan  mosques,  with  Chinese  muezzins  in  blue 
turbans  on  feast  days;  Manchu  palaces  with  vermilion- 
red  pillars  and  archways  and  green  and  gold  ceilings. 
There  are  unending  lines  of  camels  plodding  slowly  in 
from  the  Western  deserts  laden  with  all  manner  of 
merchandise;  there  are  curious  palanquins  slung  between 
two  mules  and  escorted  by  sword-armed  men  that  have 
journeyed  all  the  way  from  Shansi  and  Kansu,  which  are 
a  thousand  miles  away;  a  Mongol  market  with  bare- 
pated  and  long-coated  Mongols  hawking  venison  and 
other  products  of  their  chase;  comely  Soochow  harlots 
with  reeking  native  scents  rising  from  their  hair;  water- 
carriers  and  barbers  from  sturdy  Shantung;  cooks  from 
epicurean    Canton;   bankers    from    Shansi — the   whole 


CITY  OF  PEKING  AND  ALL  ITS  GLORIES       45 

Empire  of  China  sending  its  best  to  its  old-world  bar- 
baric capital,  which  has  now  no  strength. 

And  right  in  the  centre  of  it  all  is  the  Forbidden  City, 
enclosing  with  its  high  pink  walls  the  palaces  which  are 
full  of  warm-blooded  Manchu  concubines,  sleek  eunuchs 
who  speak  in  wheedling  tones,  and  is  always  hot  with 
intrigue.  At  the  gates  of  the  Palace  lounge  bow  and 
jingal-armed  Imperial  guards.  Inside  is  the  Son  of 
Heaven  himself,  the  Emperor  imprisoned  in  his  own 
Palace  by  the  Empress  Mother,  who  is  as  masterful  as 
any  man  who  ever  lived.   .   .   . 

I  beg  you,  do  you  begin  to  see  something  of  Peking 
and  to  understand  the  eleven  miserable  little  Legations, 
each  with  its  own  particular  ideas  and  intrigues,  but 
crouching  all  together  under  the  Tartar  Wall  and  trem- 
blingly awaiting  with  mock  assurance  the  bursting  of  this 
storm?  If  you  are  so  good  as  to  see  this  you  will  realise 
the  wonderful  stage  effects,  the  fierce  Medievalism  in 
senile  decay,  the  superb  distances,  the  red  dust  from  the 
Gobi  that  has  choked  up  all  the  drains  and  tarnished  all 
the  magnificence  until  it  is  no  more  magnificence  at  all — 
this  dust  which  is  such  a  herald  of  the  coming  storm — 
the  new  guns  and  pistols  of  Herr  Krupp  and  the  camels 
of  the  deserts  and  all  the  other  things  all  mixed  up  to- 
gether.  .   .   . 

Oh,  I  see  that  we  are  absurd  and  can  only  be  made 
more  ridiculous  by  coming  events.  Of  course  the  Boxers 
coming  in  openly  through  the  gates  cannot  be  true,  and 

yet shades  of  Genghis  Khan  and  all  his  Tartars, 

what  is  that?  When  I  had  got  as  far  as  this  from  all 
sides  came  a  tremendous  blaring  of  barbaric  trumpets — 
those  long  brass  trumpets  that  can  make  one's  blood 
curdle  horribly,  a  blaring  which  has  now  upset  every- 


46  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

thing  I  was  about  to  write  and  also  my  inkpot.  I  rushed 
out  to  inquire;  it  was  only  a  portion  of  the  Manchu  Pe- 
king Field  Force  marching  home,  but  the  sounds  have 
unsettled  us  all  again,  and  in  the  tumult  of  one's  emo- 
tions one  does  not  know  what  to  believe  and  what  to  fear. 
Everything  seems  a  little  impossible  and  absurd,  espe- 
cially what  I  am  now  writing  from  hour  to  hour. 


VIII 

SOME   INCIDENTS  AND  THE   ONE    MAN 

1 2th  June,  1900. 


Even  the  British  Legation — "the  stoical,  sceptical, 
ill-informed  British  Legation,"  as  S of  the  Ameri- 
can Legation  calls  it — is  wringing  its  hands  with  an- 
noyance, and  were  it  Italian,  and  therefore  dramatically 
articulate,  its  curses  and  maladette  would  ascend  to  the 
very  heavens  in  a  menacing  cloud  like  our  Peking  dust. 
For  on  England  we  have  all  been  waiting  because  of  an 
ancient  prestige;  and  England,  every  one  says,  is  mainly 
responsible  for  our  present  plight.  Everybody  is  lower- 
ing at  England  and  the  British  Legation  along  Legation 

Street,    because   S was    not   sent    for   two   weeks 

ago,  and  the  language  of  the  minor  missions,  who  could 
not  possibly  expect  to  receive  protecting  guards  unless 
they  swam  all  the  way  from  Europe,  is  sulphurous. 
They  ask  with  much  reason  why  we  do  not  lead  events 
instead  of  being  led  by  them;  why  are  we  so  foolish,  so 
confident.  What  has  happened  to  justify  all  this,  you 
will  ask?     Well,  permit  me  to  speak. 

The  day  before  yesterday  several  Englishmen  rode 
down  to  the  Machiapu  railway  station,  which  is  just 
outside  the  Chinese  city,  and  is  our  Peking  station,  to 

welcome,    as   they   thought,    Admiral    S and    his 

reinforcements,  so  despairingly  telegraphed  for  by  the 
British  Legation  just  fourteen  days  later  than  should 


48  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

have  been  done.  Their  passage  to  the  station  was 
unmarked  by  incidents,  excepting  that  they  noted  with 
apprehension  the  thickly  clustering  tents  of  Kansu 
soldiery  in  the  open  spaces  fronting  the  vast  Temples 
of  Heaven  and  Agriculture.  Once  the  station  was 
reached  a  weary  wait  began,  with  nothing  to  relieve  the 
tedium,  for  the  vast  crowds  which  usually  surround  the 
"fire-cart  stopping-place,"  to  translate  the  vernacular, 
all  had  disappeared,  and  in  place  of  the  former  noisiness 
there  was  nothing  but  silence. 

At  last,  somewhat  downcast,  our  Englishmen  were 
forced  to  return  without  a  word  of  news,  passing  into 
the  Chinese  city  when  it  was  almost  dusk.  Alas!  the 
Kansu  soldiery,  after  the  manner  of  all  Celestials,  were 
taking  the  air  in  the  twilight;  and  no  sooner  did  they 
spy  the  hated  foreigner  than  hoots  and  curses  rose 
louder  and  louder.  The  horsemen  quickened  their  pace, 
stones  flew,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  mind 
of  one  man  they  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces.  They 
left  the  great  main  street  of  the  outer  city  in  a  tremen- 
dous uproar  and  seemed  glad  to  be  back  among  friends. 

Yesterday,  the  i  ith,  it  seemed  absolutely  certain  S 

would  arrive,  since  he  must  have  left  Tientsin  on 
the  ioth,  and  it  is  only  ninety  miles  by  rail.  The  Lega- 
tions wished  to  despatch  a  messenger,  but  the  Kansu 
soldiery  on  those  open  spaces  were  not  attractive,  and 
nobody  was  very  anxious  to  brave  them.  Who  was  to 
go  ?  No  sooner  was  it  mentioned  in  the  Japanese  Lega- 
tion than,  of  course,  a  Japanese  was  found  ready  to  go; 
in  fact,  several  Japanese  almost  came  to  blows  on  the 
subject.  Sugiyama,  the  chancelier,  somehow  managed 
to  prove  that  he  had  the  best  right,  and  go  he  did,  but 
never  to  return. 


SOME  INCIDENTS  AND  THE  ONE  MAN  49 

It  was  dark  before  his  carter  turned  up  in  Legation 
Street,  covered  with  dust  and  bespattered  with  blood, 
while  I  happened  to  be  there.  It  was  an  ugly  story  he 
unfolded,  and  it  is  hardly  good  to  tell  it.  On  the  open 
spaces  facing  the  supplicating  altars  of  Heaven  and 
Agriculture  this  little  Japanese,  Sugiyama,  met  his  death 
in  a  horrid  way.  The  Kansu  soldiery  were  waiting  for 
more  cursed  foreigners  to  appear,  and  this  time  they  had 
their  arms  with  them  and  were  determined  to  have 
blood.  So  they  killed  the  Japanese  brutally  while  he 
shielded  himself  with  his  small  hands.  They  hacked 
off  all  his  limbs,  barbarians  that  they  are,  decapitated 
him,  then  mutilated  his  body.  It  now  lies  half-buried 
where  it  was  smitten  down.  The  carter  who  drove  him 
was  eloquent  as  only  Orientals  can  be,  when  tragedy 
flings  their  customary  reserve  aside:  "May  my  tongue 
be  torn  out  if  I  scatter  falsehoods,"  he  said  again  and 
again,  using  the  customary  phrase,  as  he  showed  how  it 
all  happened.  And  late  into  the  night  he  was  still  recit- 
ing his  story  to  fresh  crowds  of  listeners,  who  gaped  with 
terror  and  astonishment.  Squatting  in  a  great  Peking 
courtyard  on  his  hams  and  calling  on  the  unseen  powers 
to  tear  out  his  tongue  if  he  lied,  he  was  a  figure  of  some 
moment,  this  Peking  carter,  for  those  that  thought;  for 
everybody  realises  that  we  are  now  caught  and  cannot  be 
driven  out.   .   .   . 

This  was  the  nth.  On  the  12th,  the  day  was  still 
more  startling,  for  somehow  the  shadow  which  has  been 
lurking  so  near  us  seems  to  have  been  thrown  more  for- 
ward and  become  more  intense.  The  hero  of  the  affair 
is  the  one  really  brave  man  among  our  chiefs,  of  course 

— the  Baron  von  K ,  the  Kaiser's  Minister  to  the 

Court  of  Peking. 


50  INDISCREET  LETTERS   FAOM   PEKING 

The  Baron  is  no  stranger  in  Peking,  although  he  has 
been  here  but  a  twelvemonth  in  his  new  capacity  as 
Minister.  Fifteen  years  ago  his  handsome  face  charmed 
more  than  one  fair  lady  in  the  old  pre-political  situation 
days,  when  there  was  plenty  of  time  for  picnics  and  love- 
making.  Then  he  was  only  an  irresponsible  attache; 
now  he  is  here  as  a  very  full-blooded  plenipotentiary, 
with  the  burden  of  a  special  German  political  mission  in 
China,  bequeathed  him  by  his  pompous  and  mannerless 

predecessor,  Baron  von  H ,  to  support.     But  a  man 

is  the  present  German  Minister  if  there  was  ever  one, 
and  it  was  in  the  newly  macadamised  Legation  Street 
that  the  incident  I  am  about  to  relate  occurred. 

Walking  out  in  the  morning,  the  German  Minister  saw 
one  of  the  ordinary  hooded  Peking  carts  trotting  care- 
lessly along,  with  the  mule  all  ears,  because  the  carter 
was  urging  him  along  with  many  digs  near  the  tail.  But 
it  was  not  the  cart,  nor  the  carter,  nor  yet  the  mule, 
which  attracted  His  Excellency's  immediate  attention, 
but  the  passenger  seated  on  the  customary  place  of  the 

off-shaft.     For  a  moment  Baron  von  K could  not 

believe  his  eyes.  It  was  nothing  less  than  a  full-fledged 
Boxer  with  his  hair  tied  up  in  red  cloth,  red  ribbons 
round  his  wrists  and  ankles,  and  a  flaming  red  girdle 
tightening  his  loose  white  tunic;  and,  to  cap  all,  the  man 
was  audaciously  and  calmly  sharpening  a  big  carver 
knife  on  his  boots !  It  was  sublime  insolence,  riding 
down  Legation  Street  like  this  in  the  full  glare  of  day, 
with  a  knife  and  regalia  proclaiming  the  dawn  of  Boxer- 
ism  in  the  Capital  of  Capitals,  and,  withal,  was  a  very 

ugly  sign.     What  did  K do, — go  home  and  invite 

some  one  to  write  a  despatch  for  him  to  his  government 
deprecating  the  growth  of  the  Boxer  movement,  and  the 


SOME  INCIDENTS  AND  THE  ONE  MAN  51 

impossibility  of  carrying  out  conciliatory  instructions,  as 
some  of  his  colleagues,  including  my  own  chief,  would 
have  done?  Not  a  bit  of  it!  He  tilted  full  at  the  man 
with  his  walking  stick,  and  before  he  could  escape  had 
beaten  a  regular  roll  of  kettledrums  on  his  hide.  Then 
the  Boxer,  after  a  short  struggle,  abandoned  his  knife, 
and  ran  with  some  fleetness  of  foot  into  a  neigh- 
bouring lane.  The  gallant  German  Minister  raised 
the  hue  and  cry,  and  then  discovered  yet  another  Boxer 
inside  the  cart,  whom  he  duly  secured  by  falling 
on  top  of  him;  and  this  last  one  was  handed  over  to  his 
own  Legation  Guards.  The  fugitive  was  followed  into 
Prince  Su's  grounds,  which  run  right  through  the  Lega- 
tion area,  and  there  cornered  in  a  house.  The  mysteri- 
ous Dr.  M then  suddenly  appeared  on  the  scenes 

and  insisted  upon  searching  the  Manchu  Prince's  entire 
grounds  and  most  private  apartments.  But  time  was 
wasted  in  pourparlers,  and  in  spite  of  a  minute  inspec- 
tion, which  extended  even  to  the  concubine  apartments, 
the  Boxer  vanished  in  some  mysterious  way  like  a  breath, 
and  is  even  now  untraced.  This  shows  us  conclusively 
that  there  are  accomplices  right  in  our  midst. 

No  sooner  had  this  incident  occurred  and  been  bandied 
round  with  sundry  exaggerations,  than  the  life  of  the 
Legations  and  the  nondescripts  who  have  been  coming 
in  from  the  country  became  more  abnormal  than  ever. 
For  in  spite  of  our  extraordinary  position,  even  up  to  to- 
day we  were  attempting  to  work — that  is,  writing  three 
lines  of  a  despatch,  and  then  rushing  madly  out  to  hear 
the  latest  news.  Now  not  so  much  as  one  word  is  writ- 
ten, and  our  eleven  Legations  are  openly  terribly  per- 
turbed in  body  and  mind  and  conscious  of  their  intense 
impotence,  although  we  have  all  the  so-called  resources 


52  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

of  diplomacy  still  at  our  command,  and  we  are  officially 
still  on  the  friendliest  terms  with  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment. 

This  morning,  the  12th,  there  was  another  commotion 
— this  time  in  Customs  Street,  as  it  is  called.  Three 
more  Boxers,  armed  with  swords  and  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  loafers,  fearful  but  curious,  ran  rapidly  past 
the  Post  Office,  which  faces  the  Customs  Inspectorate, 
and  got  into  a  small  temple  a  few  hundred  feet  away, 
where  they  began  their  incantations.  It  was  decided  to 
attack  them  only  with  riding-whips,  so  as  to  avoid  draw- 
ing first  blood.  But  when  a  party  of  us  arrived,  we  could 
not  get  into  their  retreat,  as  they  had  barricaded  them- 
selves in.  So  marines  and  sailors  were  requisitioned  with 
axes;  after  a  lot  of  exhausting  work  it  was  discovered 
that  the  birds  had  flown.  This  was  another  proof  that 
there  is  treachery  among  friendly  natives,  for  without 
help  these  Boxers  could  never  have  escaped. 

And  now  imagine  our  excitement  and  general  pertur- 
bation. Since  the  8th  or  9th,  I  really  forget  which  date, 
we  have  been  acting  on  a  more  or  less  preconcerted  plan 
— that  is,  as  far  as  our  defences  are  concerned,  as  we 
have  been  quite  cut  off  from  the  outer  world.  The  com- 
manders of  the  British,  American,  German,  French, 
Italian,  Russian,  Austrian  and  Japanese  detachments 
have  met  and  conferred — each  carefully  instructed  by  his 
own  Minister  just  how  far  he  is  to  acquiesce  in  his  col- 
leagues' proposals,  which  is,  roughly  speaking,  not  at  all. 
We  can  have  no  effective  council  of  war  thus,  because 
there  is  no  commander-in-chief,  and  everybody  is  a 
claimant  to  the  post.  There  is  first  an  Austrian  captain 
of  a  man-of-war  lying  off  the  Taku  bar,  who  was  merely 
up  in  Peking  on  a  pleasure  trip  when  he  was  caught  by 


SOME  INCIDENTS  AND  THE  ONE  MAN  53 

the  storm,  but  this  has  not  hindered  him  taking  over 
command  of  the  Austrian  sailors  from  the  lieutenant  who 
brought  them  up;  and  everybody  knows  that  a  captain 
in  the  navy  ranks  with  a  colonel  in  the  army.  There  are 
no  military  men  in  Peking  excepting  three  captains  of 
British  marines,  one  Japanese  lieutenant-colonel  and  his 
aide-de-camp,  and  some  unimportant  military  attaches, 
who  are  very  junior.  So  on  paper  the  command  should 
lie  between  two  men — the  Austrian  naval  captain  and 
the  Japanese  lieutenant-colonel.  But,  then,  the  Japanese 
have  instructions  to  follow  the  British  lead,  and  the 
senior  British  marine  captain  has  orders  to  follow  his 
own  ideas,  and  his  own  ideas  do  not  fancy  the  unattached 
Austrian  captain  of  a  man-of-war.  So  the  concerted  plan 
of  defence  has  only  been  evolved  very  suddenly,  a  plan 
which  has  resolved  itself  naturally  into  each  detachment- 
commander  holding  his  own  Legation  as  long  as  he  could, 
and  being  vaguely  linked  to  his  neighbour  by  picquets  of 
two  or  three  men.  But  about  this  you  will  understand 
more  later  on.  The  point  I  wish  you  now  to  realise  is 
that  the  counsels  of  the  allied  countries  of  Europe  in  the 
persons  of  their  Legation  Guards'  commanders  are  as 
effective  as  those  of  very  juvenile  kindergartens.  Every- 
body is  intensely  jealous  of  everybody  else  and  deter- 
mined not  to  give  way  on  the  question  of  the  supreme 
command.  Of  course,  if  the  storm  comes  suddenly, 
without  any  warning,  we  are  doomed,  because  you  can- 
not hold  an  area  a  mile  square  with  a  lot  of  men  who 
are  fighting  among  themselves,  and  who  have  fallen  too 
quickly  into  our  miserably  petty  Peking  scheme  of  things. 


IX 

THE   COMING  OF  THE  BOXERS 

14th  June,  1900. 


I  had  risen  yesterday  somewhat  late  in  the  day  with  that 
oddness  and  uncomfortableness — I  do  not  mean  discom- 
fort— which  comes  from  too  much  boots,  too  much  dis- 
turbance of  one's  ordinary  routine,  too  much  listening 
to  people  airing  their  opinions  and  recounting  rumours, 
and,  last  of  all,  very  wearied  by  the  uncustomary  task  of 
transporting  a  terrible  battery  of  hand  artillery  (for  we 
are  at  last  all  heavily  armed)  ;  and  consequent  of  these 
varied  things,  I,  like  everybody  else,  was  a  good  deal 
out  of  temper  and  rather  sick  of  it  all.  I  began  to  ask 
myself  this  question :  Were  we  really  playing  an  immense 
comedy,  or  was  there  a  great  and  terrible  peril  menacing 
us?  I  could  never  get  beyond  asking  the  question.  I 
could  not  think  sanely  long  enough  for  the  answer. 

The  day  passed  slowly,  and  very  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  some  of  us  had  completed  a  tour  of  the  Legations, 
and  looked  at  their  various  picquets,  I  finished  up  at  the 
Austrian  Legation  and  the  Customs  Street.  Men  were 
everywhere  sitting  about,  idly  watching  the  dusty  and 
deserted  streets,  half  hoping  that  something  was  going  to 
happen  shortly,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  shout  and  a 
fierce  running  of  feet.    Something  had  happened. 

We  all  jumped  up  as  if  we  had  been  shot,  for  we  had 
been  sitting  very  democratically  on  the  sidewalk,  and 


THE   COMING  OF  THE   BOXERS  55 

round  the  corner,  running  with  the  speed  of  the  scared, 
came  a  youthful  English  postal  carrier.  That  was  all  at 
first. 

But  behind  him  were  Chinese,  and  ponies  and  carts 
ridden  or  driven  with  a  recklessness  that  was  amazing. 
The  English  youth  had  started  gasping  exclamations  as 
he  ran  in,  and  tried  to  fetch  his  breath,  when  from  the 
back  of  the  Austrian  Legation  came  a  rapid  roll  of  mus- 
ketry. Austrian  marines,  who  were  spread-eagled  along 
the  roofs  of  their  Legation  residences,  and  on  the  top  of 
the  high  surrounding  wall,  had  evidently  caught  sight  of 
the  edge  of  an  advancing  storm,  and  were  firing  fiercely. 
We  seized  our  rifles — everybody  has  been  armed  cap-a- 
pie  for  days — and  in  a  disorderly  crowd  we  ran  down 
to  the  end  of  the  great  wall  surrounding  the  Austrian 
compounds  to  view  the  broad  street  which  runs  towards 
the  city  gates.  The  firing  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
begun,  and  in  its  place  arose  a  perfect  storm  of  distant 
roaring  and  shouting.  Soon  we  could  see  flames  shoot- 
ing up  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  where  we  stood; 
but  the  intervening  houses  and  trees,  the  din  and  the  ex- 
citement, coupled  with  the  stern  order  of  an  Austrian 
officer,  shouted  from  the  top  of  an  outhouse,  not  to 
move  as  their  machine-gun  was  coming  into  action  over 
our  heads,  made  it  impossible  for  us  to  understand  or 
move  forward.    What  was  it? 

Presently  somebody  trotted  up  from  behind  us  on  a 
pony,  and,  waiting  his  opportunity,  rode  into  the  open, 
and  with  considerable  skill  seized  a  fleeing  Chinaman  by 
the  neck.  This  prisoner  was  dragged  in  more  dead  than 
alive  with  fear,  and  he  told  us  that  all  he  knew  was  that 
as  he  had  passed  into  the  Tartar  city  through  the  Ha-ta 
Gate  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before,  myriads  of  Boxers — 


56  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

those  were  his  words — armed  with  swords  and  spears, 
and  with  their  red  sashes  and  insignia  openly  worn,  had 
rushed  into  the  Tartar  city  from  the  Chinese  city,  slash- 
ing and  stabbing  at  every  one  indiscriminately.  The 
foreigners'  guns  had  caught  them,  he  said,  and  dusted 
them  badly,  and  they  were  now  running  towards  the 
north,  setting  fire  to  chapels  and  churches,  and  any  evi- 
dences of  the  European  they  could  find.  He  knew  noth- 
ing more.  We  let  our  prisoner  go,  and  no  sooner  had 
he  disappeared  than  fresh  waves  of  fugitives  appeared 
sobbing  and  weeping  with  excitement.  The  Boxers,  de- 
flected from  the  Legation  quarter,  were  spreading 
rapidly  down  the  Ha-ta  Great  Street  which  runs  due 
north,  and  everybody  was  fleeing  west  past  our  quarter. 
Never  have  I  seen  such  fast  galloping  and  driving  in  the 
Peking  streets;  never  would  I  have  believed  that  small- 
footed  women,  of  whom  there  are  a  goodly  number  even 
in  the  large-footed  Manchu  city,  could  get  so  nimbly 
over  the  ground.  Everybody  was  panic-stricken  and  dis- 
traught, and  we  could  do  nothing  but  look  on.  They 
went  on  running,  running,  running.  Then  the  waves  of 
men,  women  and  animals  disappeared  as  suddenly  as 
they  had  come,  and  the  roads  became  once  again  silent 
and  deserted.  Far  away  the  din  of  the  Boxers  could 
still  be  heard,  and  flames  shooting  up  to  the  skies  now 
marked  their  track;  but  of  the  dreaded  men  themselves 
we  had  not  seen  a  single  one. 

We  had  now  time  to  breathe,  and  to  run  round  making 
inquiries.  We  found  the  Italian  picquet  at  the  Ha-ta 
end  of  Legation  Street  nearly  mad  with  excitement; 
the  men  were  crimson  and  shouting  at  one  another.  But 
there  was  nothing  new  to  learn.  Bands  of  Boxers  had 
passed  the  Italian  line  only  eighty  or  a  hundred  yards 


THE  COMING  OF  THE   BOXERS  57 

off,  and  a  number  of  dark  spots  on  the  ground  testified 
to  some  slaughter  by  small-bore  Mausers.  They  had 
been  given  a  taste  of  our  guns,  that  was  all ;  and,  fearing 
the  worst,  every  able-bodied  man  in  the  Legations  fell  in 
at  the  prearranged  posts  and  waited  for  fresh  develop- 
ments. 

At  eight  o'clock,  while  we  were  hurriedly  eating  some 
food,  word  was  passed  that  fires  to  the  north  and  east 
were  recommencing  with  renewed  vigour.  The  Boxers; 
having  passed  two  miles  of  neutral  territory,  had 
reached  the  belt  of  abandoned  foreign  houses  and 
grounds  belonging  to  the  foreign  Customs,  to  mission- 
aries, and  to  some  other  people.  Pillaging  and  burning 
and  unopposed,  they  were  spreading  everywhere.  Flames 
were  now  leaping  up  from  a  dozen  different  quarters, 
ever  higher  and  higher.  The  night  was  inky  black, 
and  these  points  of  fire,  gathering  strength  as  their 
progress  was  unchecked,  soon  met  and  formed  a  vast 
line  of  flame  half  a  mile  long.  There  is  nothing  which 
can  make  such  a  splendid  but  fearful  spectacle  as  fire  at 
night.  The  wind,  which  had  been  blowing  gently  from 
the  north,  veered  to  the  east,  as  if  the  gods  wished  us  to 
realise  our  plight;  and  on  the  breeze  leading  towards  the 
Legations,  some  sound  of  the  vast  tumult  and  excitement 
was  wafted  to  us.  The  whole  city  seemed  now  to  be 
alive  with  hoarse  noises,  which  spoke  of  the  force  of 
disorder  unloosed.  Orders  for  every  man  to  stand  by 
and  for  reinforcements  to  be  massed  near  the  Austrian 
quarter  were  issued,  and  impatient,  yet  impotent,  we 
waited  the  upshot  of  it  all.  Chinese  officialdom  gave  no 
sign;  not  a  single  word  did  or  could  the  Chinese  Gov- 
ernment dare  to  send  us.  We  were  abandoned  to  our 
own  resources,  as  was  inevitable. 


58  INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

Suddenly  a  tremor  passed  over  all  who  were  watching 
the  brilliant  scene.  The  flames,  which  till  then  had  been 
confined  to  a  broad  belt  at  least  three  thousand  yards 
from  our  eastern  picquets,  began  leaping  up  a  mile 
nearer.  The  Boxers,  having  destroyed  all  the  foreign 
houses  in  the  Tsung-li  Yamen  quarter,  were  advancing 
up  rapidly  on  the  Tung  T'ang — the  Roman  Catholic 
Eastern  Cathedral,  which  was  but  fifteen  minutes'  walk 
from  our  lines.  We  knew  that  hundreds  of  native  Chris- 
tians lived  around  the  cathedral,  and  that  as  soon  as 
their  lives  were  threatened  they  would  at  once  seek 
refuge  in  their  church,  and  we  knew,  also,  what  that 
would  mean. 

The  roar  increased  in  vigour,  and  then  hundreds  of 
torches,  dancing  like  will-o'-the-wisps  in  front  of  our 
straining  eyes,  appeared  far  down  the  Wang-ta,  or  so- 
called    Customs    Street,    which    separates    Sir    R 

H 's    Inspectorate    from    the    Austrian    Legation. 

They  were  less  than  a  thousand  yards  away.  The  Boxers, 
casting  discretion  to  the  winds,  appeared  to  be  once  more 
advancing  on  the  Legations.  But  then  came  a  shout 
from  the  Austrian  Legation,  some  hoarse  cries  in 
guttural  German,  and  the  big  gates  of  the  Legation  were 
thrown  open  near  us.  The  night  was  inky  black,  and 
you  could  see  nothing.  A  confused  banging  of  feet 
followed,  then  some  more  orders,  and  with  a  rattling 
of  gun-wheels  a  machine-gun  was  run  out  and  planted 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  street. 

"At  two  thousand  yards,"  sang  out  the  naval  lieutenant 
unexpectedly  and  jarringly  as  we  stood  watching,  "slow 
fire." 

I  was  surprised  at  such  decision.  Tang,  tang,  tang, 
tang,  tang,  spat  the  machine-gun  in  the  black  night,  now 


THE  COMING  OF  THE   BOXERS  59 

rasping  out  bullets  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  a  minute, 
as  the  gunner  under  the  excitement  of  the  hour  and  his 
surroundings  forgot  his  instructions,  now  steadying  to 
a  slow  second  fire.  This  was  something  like  a  counter- 
excitement;  we  were  beginning  to  speak  at  last.  We 
were  delighted.  It  was  not  so  much  the  gun  reports 
which  thrilled  us  as  the  resonant  echoes  which,  crackling 
like  very  dry  fagots  in  a  fierce  fire  as  the  bullets  sped 
down  the  long,  straight  street,  made  us  realise  their 
destroying  power.  Have  you  ever  heard  a  high-velocity 
machine-gun  firing  down  deserted  and  gloomy  thorough- 
fares? It  crackles  all  over  your  body  in  electrical  shocks 
as  powerful  as  those  of  a  galvanic  battery;  it  stimulates 
the  brain  as  nothing  else  can  do;  it  is  extraordinary. 

The  will-o'-the-wisp  torches  had  stopped  dancing  for- 
ward now,  but  still  they  remained  there,  quite  inexplic- 
able in  their  fixity.  We  imagined  that  our  five  minutes' 
bombardment  must  have  carried  death  and  destruction 
to  every  one  and  everything.  And  yet  what  did  this 
mean?  The  flames,  which  had  been  licking  round  near 
the  cathedral,  suddenly  burst  up  in  a  great  pillar  of  fire. 
That  was  the  answer;  the  cathedral  was  at  last  alight. 
At  this  we  all  gave  a  howl  of  rage,  for  we  knew  what 
that  meant.  The  picquets  had  been  mysteriously  rein- 
forced by  Frenchmen,  Englishmen,  and  men  of  half  a 
dozen  other  nationalities,  all  chattering  together  in  all 
the  languages  of  Europe.  "Que  faire,  que  faire,"  some- 
body kept  bawling.  "Get  your  damned  gun  out  of  the 
way,"  shouted  other  angry  voices,  "and  let  us  charge 

the    beggars."      But    Captain    T ,    the    Austrian 

commander,  was  already  conferring  with  a  dear  col- 
league whom  he  had  discovered  in  the  dark.  Even  in 
this  storm  of  excitement  the  protocol  could  not  be  for- 


60  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

gotten.  Marines,  sailors,  and  Legation  juniors  groaned; 
was  this  opportunity  to  be  missed?  At  last  they 
arranged  it;  it  should  be  a  charge  of  volunteers. 

"Volunteers  to  the  front,"  shouted  somebody.  Every- 
body sprang  forward  like  one  man.  A  French  squad 
was  already  fixing  bayonets  noisily  and  excusing  their 
rattle  and  cursing  on  account  of  the  dark;  the  Austrians 
had  deployed  and  were  already  advancing.  "Pas  de 
charge"  called  a  French  middy.  Somebody  started 
tootling  a  bugle,  and  helter-skelter  we  were  off  down  the 
street,  with  fixed  bayonets  and  loaded  magazines,  a 
veritable  massacre  for  ourselves  in  the  dark.  .    .    . 

The  charge  blew  itself  out  in  less  than  four  hundred 
yards,  and  we  pulled  up  panting,  swearing  and  laughing. 
Somebody  had  stuck  some  one  else  through  the  seat  of 
the  trousers,  and  the  some  one  else  was  making  a  horrid 
noise  about  this  trivial  detail.  Some  rifles  had  also  gone 
off  by  themselves,  how,  why  and  at  whom  no  one  would 
explain.  A  very  fine  night  counter-attack  we  were,  and 
the  rear  was  the  safest  place.  Yet  that  run  did  us  good. 
It  was  like  a  good  drink  of  strong  wine. 

But  we  had  now  reached  the  first  torches  and  under- 
stood why  they  remained  stationary.  The  Boxers,  met 
by  the  Austrian  machine-gun,  had  stuck  them  in  long 
lines  along  the  edge  of  the  raised  driving  road,  and  had 
then  sneaked  back  quietly  in  the  dark.  Every  minute 
we  expected  to  have  our  progress  checked  by  the  dead 
bodies  of  those  we  had  slain,  but  not  a  corpse  could  you 
see.  The  Austrian  commander  was  now  once  again  hold- 
ing a  council  of  war,  and  this  time  he  urged  a  prompt 
retreat.  We  had  certainly  lost  touch  with  our  own 
lines,  and  for  all  we  knew  we  might  suddenly  be  greeted 
with  a  volley  from  our  own  people  coming  out  to  rein- 


THE   COMING   OF   THE   BOXERS  61 

force  us.  Our  commanders  wobbled  this  way  and  that 
for  a  few  minutes,  but  then,  goaded  by  the  general  de- 
sire, we  pushed  forward  again,  with  a  common  move- 
ment, without  orders  this  time.  We  moved  more 
slowly,  firing  heavily  at  every  shadow  along  the 
sides  of  the  road.  Here  it  seemed  more  black  than 
ever,  for  the  spluttering  torches,  which  cast  a  dim  light 
on  the  raised  road  itself,  left  the  neighbouring  houses 
in  an  impenetrable  gloom.  Whole  battalions  of  Boxers 
could  have  lurked  there  unmarked  by  us;  perhaps  they 
were  only  waiting  until  they  could  safely  cut  us  off.  It 
was  very  uncanny. 

In  front  of  us  the  flames  of  the  burning  Roman  Cath- 
olic Cathedral  rose  higher* and  higher,  and  the  shouts 
and  roars,  becoming  ever  fiercer  and  fiercer,  could  be 
plainly  heard.  Just  then  a  Frenchman  stumbled  with  a 
muttered  oath,  and,  bending  down,  jumped  back  with  a 
cry  of  alarm.  At  his  feet  lay  a  native  woman  trussed 
tightly  with  ropes,  with  her  body  already  half-charred 
and  reeking  with  kerosene,  but  still  alive  and  moaning 
faintly.  The  Boxers,  inhuman  brutes,  had  caught  her, 
set  fire  to  her,  and  then  flung  her  on  the  road  to  light 
their  way.  She  was  the  first  victim  of  their  rage  we 
had  as  yet  come  across.    That  made  us  feel  like  savages. 

We  were  now  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  cathedral,  and  in  the  light  of  the  flames,  which  were 
now  burning  more  brightly  than  ever,  we  could  see  hun- 
dreds of  figures  dancing  about  busily.  We  had  just 
halted  to  prepare  for  a  final  charge  when  something 
moved  in  front  of  us.  "Halt,"  we  all  cried,  marking 
our  different  nationalities  by  our  different  intonations  of 
the  word.  A  sobbing  Chinese  voice  called  back  to  us: 
"Wo  pu  shih;  wo  pu  shih,"  which  merely  means,  "I  am 


62  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

not,"  leaving  us  to  infer  that  he  was  referring  to  the 
Boxers ;  and  then  without  waiting  for  an  answer  the 
night  wanderer,  whoever  he  might  be,  scampered  away 
hurriedly.  The  immediate  result  was  that  we  opened 
a  terrible  fusillade  in  the  direction  he  had  fled,  our  men 
firing  at  least  a  hundred  shots.  Many  mocking  voices 
then  called  back  to  us  from  the  shadows.  There  was 
laughter,  too.  It  was  obviously  hopeless  trying  to  do 
anything  in  this  dark;  so  when  a  bugler  trotted  up  from 
our  lines  with  stern  orders  from  the  French  commandant 
for  his  men  to  retire,  we  all  stumbled  back  more  than 
willingly.     We  had  gone  out  of  our  depth. 

Meanwhile  the  flames  spread  farther  and  farther,  until 
half  the  Tartar  city  seemed  on  fire.  All  Peking  awoke, 
and  from  every  part  confused  noises  and  a  vast  barking 
of  dogs  was  borne  down  on  us.  What  course  should  we 
take,  if  the  attack  was  suddenly  carried  all  round  our 
area? 

The  French  Minister  was  by  this  time  officially  in- 
formed that  native  Catholics  were  being  butchered 
wholesale;  that  there  were  plenty  of  men  who  were  will- 
ing to  go  and  rescue  them,  but  that  no  one  seemed  to 
have  any  orders,  and  that  every  one  was  swearing  at  the 
general  incompetence.  Absolute  confusion  reigned 
within  our  lines;  the  picquets  broke  away  from  their 
posts;  the  different  nationalities  fraternised  under  the 
excitement  of  the  hour  and  lost  themselves;  and  it  would 
have  been  child's  play  to  have  rushed  the  whole  Legation 
area.    We  felt  that  clearly  enough. 

It  was  not  until  well  past  midnight,  and  after  several 
heated  discussions,  that  a  relief  party  was  finally  organ- 
ised ;  but  when  they  got  to  the  cathedral  there  was  hardly 
anything  to  see,  for  the  butchery  was  nearly  over  and 


THE   COMING  OF   THE   BOXERS  63 

the  ruin  completed.  Several  hundred  native  Roman 
Catholics  had  disappeared,  only  a  few  Boxers  were  seen 
and  shot  and  a  few  converts  rescued. 

How  well  I  remember  the  scene  when  this  second  expe- 
dition returned,  excited  and  garrulous  as  only  French- 
men can  be.  The  French  Minister  led  them  in.  He 
explained  to  us  that  the  Boxers  had  already  absolutely 
demolished  everything — that  it  was  no  use  risking  one's 
self  so  far  from  one's  own  lines  any  more — that  it  was 
a  terrible  business,  but  que  faire.  .  .  .  The  French 
Minister  did  not  hurry  away,  but  stood  there  talking 
endlessly.  It  was  at  once  dramatic  and  absurd.  Sir 
R H ,  in  company  with  many  others,  stood  lis- 
tening, however,  with  an  awestruck  expression  on  his 
face.  He  carried  a  somewhat  formidable  armament — 
at  least  two  large  Colt  revolvers  strapped  on  to  his  thin 
body,  and  possibly  a  third  stowed  away  in  his  hip  pocket. 
From  midnight  to  the  small  hours  there  was  a  constant 
stream  of  our  most  distinguished  personages  coming  and 
looking  down  this  street  and  wondering  what  would 
happen  next.    It  was  not  a  very  valiant  spectacle. 

In  this  curious  fashion  the  memorable  night  of  the 
1 2th  passed  away,  with  sometimes  one  picquet  firing, 
sometimes  another,  and  with  everybody  waiting  wearily 
for  the  morning.  We  had  almost  lost  interest  by  that 
time. 

At  half-past  four  the  pink  light  began  chasing  away 
the  gloom;  the  shadows  lightened,  and  day  at  last  broke. 
At  six  o'clock  native  refugees  from  the  foreign  houses 
that  had  been  burned  came  slinking  silently  in  with  white 
faces  and  trembling  hands,  all  quite  broken  down  by 
terrible  experiences.  One  gate-keeper,  whose  case  was 
tragically  unique,   had  lost  everything  and  everybody 


64  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

belonging  to  him,  and  was  weeping  in  a  curious  Chinese 
way,  without  tears  and  without  much  contortion  of 
features,  but  persistently,  without  any  break  or  inter- 
mission, in  a  somewhat  terrifying  fashion.  His  wife, 
six  children,  his  father  and  mother,  and  a  number  of 
relations  had  all  been  burned  alive — thirteen  in  all. 
They  had  been  driven  into  the  flames  with  spears. 
Moaning  like  a  sick  dog,  and  making  us  all  feel  cowardly 
because  we  had  not  attempted  a  rescue,  the  man  sought 

refuge   in  an  outhouse.      Sir   R H was  still 

standing  at  his  post,  looking  terribly  old  and  hardly  less 
distressed  than  the  wretched  fugitives  pouring  in.  His 
old  offices  and  residences,  where  forty  years  before  he 
had  painfully  begun  a  life-long  work,  were  all  stamped 
out  of  existence,  and  the  iron  had  entered  into  his 
soul.  A  number  of  the  officers  commanding  detach- 
ments, and  people  belonging  to  various  Legations, 
attempted  to  glean  details  as  to  the  strength  of  the  Boxer 
detachments  from  these  survivors,  but  nobody  could  give 
any  information  worth  having.  I  noticed  that  no  Min- 
isters came;  they  were  all  in  bed! 

At  eight  o'clock,  still  afoot,  we  heard  that  there 
was  a  deuce  of  a  row  going  on  at  the  Ha-ta  Gate,  be- 
cause it  was  still  locked  and  the  key  was  gone.  It  now 
transpired  that  a  party  of  volunteers,  led  by  the 
Swiss  hotel-keeper  of  the  place  and  his  wife,  had  marched 
down  to  the  gate  after  the  Boxers  had  rushed  in,  had 
locked  it,  and  taken  the  key  home  to  bed,  so  that 
no  one  else  could  pay  us  their  attentions  from  this 
quarter.  This  is  the  simplest  and  the  most  sensible 
thing  which  has  been  yet  done,  and  it  shows  how  we  will 
have  to  take  the  law  into  our  own  hands  if  we  are 
to  survive. 


THE   COMING   OF   THE   BOXERS  65 

In  this  fashic  A  the  Boxers  were  ushered  in  on  us.  Most 
of  us  kept  awake  until  ten  or  eleven  in  the  morning  for 
fear  that  by  sleeping  we  might  miss  some  incidents.  But 
even  the  Boxers  had  apparently  become  tired,  for  there 
was  not  a  sign  of  a  disturbance  after  midnight.  In  spite 
of  the  quiet,  however,  the  streets  remain  absolutely  de- 
serted, and  we  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  is  going 
to  happen  next. 


X 

BARRICADES  AND  RELIEFS 

1 6th  June,   1900. 


We  have  entered  quite  naturally  in  these  unnatural 
times  on  a  new  phase  of  existence.  It  is  the  time  of 
barricades  and  punitive  expeditions;  of  the  Legations 
tardily  bestirring  themselves  in  their  own  defence,  and 
realising  that  they  must  try  and  forget  their  private  poli- 
tics if  they  are  even  to  live,  not  to  say  one  day  to  resume 
their  various  rivalries  and  animosities.  Imperceptibly 
we  are  being  impelled  to  take  action ;  we  must  do  some- 
thing. 

We  woke  up  late  on  the  14th  to  the  fact  that  loop- 
holed  barricades  had  been  everywhere  begun  on  our 
streets,  as  effective  bars  to  the  inrush  of  savage  torch- 
bearing  desperadoes,  each  Legation  doing  its  own  work; 
and  that  the  Chinese  Government,  with  its  likes  and  dis- 
likes, would  have  to  be  seriously  and  cynically  disre- 
garded if  we  wished  to  preserve  the  breath  of  life.  So 
barricades  have  been  going  up  on  all  sides,  excepting 
near  the  British  Legation,  where  the  same  indifference 
and  sloth,  which  have  so  greatly  contributed  to  this 
impasse,  still  remain  undisturbed.  Near  the  Aus- 
trian, French,  American,  Italian  and  Russian  Legations 
barricade-builders  are  at  work,  capturing  stray  Peking 
carts,  turning  them  over  and  filling  them  full  of  bricks. 
So  quickly  has  the  work  been  pushed  on,  that  in  some 


BARRICADES   AND   RELIEFS  67 

places  there  are  already  loopholed  walls  three  feet  thick 
stretching  across  our  streets,  and  so  cleverly  constructed 
that  carts  can  still  pass  in  and  out  without  great  difficulty. 
We  are  still  on  speaking  terms  with  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment, but  who  knows  what  the  morrow  may  bring? 

But  although  you  may  have  gathered  some  idea  of  the 
general  aspect  of  Peking  from  what  I  have  wrritten,  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  you  have  no  clear  conception  of 
the  Legation  quarter  and  what  this  barricading  means. 
It  seems  certain  that  we  will  have  to  fight  some  one  in 
time,  so  I  will  try  and  explain. 

Legation  Street,  or  the  Chiao  Min  hsiang,  to  give  it  the 
native  appellation,  runs  parallel  to  the  Tartar  Wall. 
Beginning  at  the  west  end  of  the  street — that  is,  the  end 
nearest  the  Imperial  City  and  the  great  Ch'ien  Men 
Gate — the  Legations  run  as  follows :  Dutch,  American, 
Russian,  German,  Spanish,  Japanese,  French,  Italian. 
Of  the  eleven  Legations,  therefore,  eight  are  in  the  one 
street,  some  on  one  side,  some  on  the  other;  some  ad- 
joining one  another,  with  their  enormous  compounds 
actually  meeting,  others  standing  more  or  less  alone  with 
nests  of  Chinese  houses  in  between.  Apart  from  the 
eight  Legations,  there  are  a  number  of  other  buildings 
belonging  to  Europeans  in  this  street,  such  as  banks,  the 
club,  the  hotel,  and  a  few  stores  and  nondescript  houses. 
Taking  the  remaining  three  Legations,  the  Belgian  is 
hopelessly  far  away  beyond  the  Ha-ta  Gate  line;  the 
Austrian  is  two  hundred  yards  down  a  side  street  on 
which  is  also  the  Customs  Inspectorate;  and,  finally,  the 
British  is  at  the  back  of  the  other  Legations — that  is, 
to  the  north  of  the  ^outh  Tartar  Wall.  The  extent  of 
this  Legation  and  its  sheared  position  make  it  a  sort 
of  natural  sanctuary  for  all  non-combatants,  since  it  is 


68  INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

masked  on  two  sides  by  the  other  Legations,  and  is  only 
really  exposed  on  two  sides,  the  north  and  the  west.  Al- 
ready many  missionaries  and  nondescripts  have  been 
coming  in  and  claiming  protection,  and  in  the  natural 
course  of  events  it  must  become  the  central  base  of  any 
defence.    Every  one  sees  and  acknowledges  that. 

At  the  two  ends  of  Legation  Street,  the  western  Russo- 
American  end  and  the  eastern  Italian  end,  heavy  barri- 
cades have  already  gone  up.  The  Dutch  Legation,  lying 
beyond  the  Russian  and  American  Legations  at  this  west 
end  of  the  street,  being  without  any  guards  and  protec- 
tors, will,  therefore,  have  to  be  abandoned  immediately 
there  is  a  rush  from  the  Ch'ien  Men  Gate.  The  Belgian 
Legation  is  naturally  untenable,  and  will  also  have  to  be 
sacrificed.  The  Austrian  Legation  is  likewise  a  little  too 
far  away;  but  for  the  time  being  a  triple  line  of  barri- 
cades have  gone  up,  having  been  constructed  along  the 
road  between  this  Legation  and  the  Customs  Inspec- 
torate. To-day,  the  16th,  carts  are  no  more  to  be  seen 
on  these  streets;  foot  traffic  is  likewise  almost  at  an  end. 
There  is  a  tacit  understanding  that  everybody  must  act 
on  the  defensive. 

Also  every  Chinaman  passing  our  barricades  is  forced 
to  provide  himself  with  a  pass,  which  shows  clearly  his 
reason  for  wandering  abroad  in  times  like  this.  There 
has  already  been  trouble  on  this  score,  for  our  system  has 
had  no  proper  trial.   .   .   . 

Since  the  14th  and  that  dreadful  first  Boxer  night,  we 
have  begun  to  take  affairs  a  good  deal  into  our  own 
hands,  and  have  attempted  to  strike  blows  at  this  grow- 
ing movement,  which  remains  so  unexplained,  whenever 
an  occasion  warranted  it — that  is,  those  of  us  who  have 
any  spirit.     Thus,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  14th,  Baron 


BARRICADES   AND   RELIEFS  69 

von  K took  a  party  of  his  marines  on  top  of  the  Tar- 
tar Wall,  pointed  out  to  them  a  party  of  Boxer  recruits 
openly  drilling  below  on  the  sandy  stretch,  and  gave 
orders  to  fire  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  So  the 
German  rifles  cracked  oft,  and  the  sands  were  spotted 
with  about  twenty  dead  and  dying.  This  action  of  the 
German  Minister's  at  once  created  an  immense  contro- 
versy. The  timid  Ministers  unhesitatingly  condemned 
the  action;  all  those  who  understand  that  you  must  prick 
an  ulcer  with  a  lancet  instead  of  pegging  at  it  with  de- 
spatch-pens, as  nearly  all  our  chiefs  have  been  doing, 
approved  and  began  to  follow  the  example  set.  This 
is  the  only  way  to  act  when  the  time  for  action  comes  in 
the  East,  and  the  net  result  is  that  we  have  been  unend- 
ingly busy.  There  have  been  expeditions,  raids,  and  na- 
tive Christians  pouring  in  and  demanding  sanctuary  with- 
in our  lines.  One  story  is  worth  telling,  as  showing  how 
we  are  being  forced  to  act. 

Word  came  to  us  suddenly  that  the  Boxers  had  caught 
a  lot  of  native  Christians,  and  had  taken  them  to  a 
temple  where  they  were  engaged  in  torturing  them  with 
a  refinement  of  cruelty.  One  of  our  leaders  col- 
lected a  few  marines  and  some  volunteers,  marched 
out  and  surrounded  the  temple  and  captured  everybody 
red-handed.  The  Boxers  were  given  short  shrift — those 
that  had  their  insignia  on;  but  in  the  sorting-out  process 
it  was  impossible  to  tell  everybody  right  at  first  sight. 
Christians  and  Boxers  were  all  of  them  gory  with  the 
blood  which  had  flown  from  the  torturing  and  brutalities 
that  had  been  going  on;  so  the  Christians  were  told  to 
line  up  against  the  wall  of  the  temple  to  facilitate  the 
summary  execution  in  progress.  Then  a  big  fellow 
rushed  out  of  a  corner,  yelling,  "I  have  received  the 


70  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

faith."  Our  leader  looked  at  the  mail  with  a  critical 
eye,  and  then  said  to  him  in  his  quietest  tones,  "Stand  up 
against  the  wall."  The  Boxer  stood  up  and  a  revolver 
belched  the  top  of  his  head  off.  With  that  quickness  of 
eye  for  which  he  is  distinguished,  our  leader  had  seen 
a  few  red  threads  hanging  below  the  fellow's  tunic.  The 
man,  as  he  fell  with  a  cry,  disclosed  his  sash  underneath. 
He  was  a  Boxer  chief.  At  least  thirty  men  were  killed 
here. 

But  it  was  at  the  Western  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral 
that  the  most  exciting  times  up  till  now  have  been  had, 
for  there,  as  at  the  other  cathedral,  the  Boxers  have  been 
at  work.  The  first  relief  expedition  went  out  during 
the  night — that  is,  last  night.  Headed  by  some  one 
from  the  French  Legation,  the  expedition  managed  to 
bring  in  all  the  priests  and  nuns  attached  to  the  cathedral 

mission.      Old    Father    d'A ,    a    charming    Italian 

priest,  was  the  most  important  man  rescued.  After  hav- 
ing been  forty  years  here,  he  surveys  the  present  scenes 
of  devastation  and  pillage  with  the  remark,  "En  Chine 
il  n'y  a  ni  Chretiens  ni  civilisation.  Ce  ne  sont  la  que 
des  phrases."    That  is  what  he  said. 

This  morning  a  second  relief  corps,  containing  the  most 
miscellaneous  elements,  tramped  away  stolidly  in  the 
direction  of  the  still  smoking  cathedral  ruins  in  the  hopes 
of  saving  some  more  unfortunates,  and  our  expectations 
were  soon  realised.  After  a  walk  of  a  mile  and  a  half, 
we  rounded  a  corner  with  the  sound  of  much  wailing 
on  all  sides,  and  ran  suddenly  full  tilt  into  at  least  two  or 
three  dozen  Boxers,  who  have  been  allowed  to  do  ex- 
actly as  they  like  for  days.  There  was  a  fierce  scuffle,  for 
we  were  down  on  them  in  a  wild  rush  before  they  could 
get  away,  and  they  showed  some  fight.     I  marked  down 


BARRICADES  AND   RELIEFS  71 

one  man  and  drove  an  old  sword  at  his  chest.  The 
fellow  howled  frightfully,  and  just  as  I  was  going  to 
despatch  him,  a  French  sailor  saved  me  the  trouble  by 
stretching  him  out  with  a  resounding  thump  on  the  head 
from  his  Lebel  rifle.  The  Boxer  curled  over  like  a  sick 
worm  and  expired.  There  was  not  much  time,  however, 
to  take  stock  of  such  minor  incidents  as  the  slaying  of 
individual  men,  even  when  one  was  the  principal  actor, 
for  everywhere  men  were  running  frantically  in  and  out 
of  houses,  shouting  and  screaming,  and  the  confusion 
was  such  that  no  one  knew  what  to  do.  The  Boxers  had 
been  calmly  butchering  all  people  who  seemed  to  them 
to  be  Christians — had  been  engaged  in  this  work  for 
many  hours — and  all  were  now  mixed  up  in  such  a 
confused  crowd  that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish 
friends  and  foes.  As  they  caught  sight  of  us,  many  of 
the  marauders  tore  off  their  red  sashes  and  fell  howling 
to  the  ground,  in  the  hope  that  they  would  be  passed  by. 
Dozens  of  narrow  lanes  round  the  ruined  cathedral, 
which  was  still  smoking,  were  full  of  Christian  families 
hiding  in  the  most  impossible  places,  and  everywhere 
Boxers  and  banditti,  sometimes  in  groups,  sometimes 
singly,  still  chased  them  and  cut  them  down.  Numbers 
had  already  been  massacred,  and  several  lanes  looked 
like  veritable  shambles.  The  stench  of  human  blood 
in  the  hot  June  air  was  almost  intolerable,  and  the  sights 
more  than  we  could  bear.  Men,  women  and  children  lay 
indiscriminately  heaped  together,  some  hacked  to  pieces, 
others  with  their  throats  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  some  still 
moving,  others  quite  motionless. 

Gradually  we  collected  an  ever-growing  mob  of  terror- 
stricken  people  who  had  escaped  this  massacre.  Some 
of  the  girls  seemed  quite  paralysed  with  fear;  others 


72  INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

were  apparently  temporarily  bereft  and  kept  on  shriek- 
ing with  a  persistency  that  was  maddening.  A  young 
French  sailor  who  did  not  look  more  than  seventeen,  and 
was  splashed  all  over  with  blood  from  having  fallen  in 
one  of  the  worst  places,  kept  striking  them  two  and  three 
at  a  time,  and  cursing  them  in  fluent  Breton,  in  the 
hope  of  bringing  them  to  reason.  "Eh  bien,  mes 
belles!  Voas  ne  finissez  pas,"  he  ended  despairingly, 
and  rushed  off  again  to  see  whether  he  could  find  any 
more. 

The  blood  was  rising  to  our  men's  heads  badly  by  now, 
and  I  saw  several  who  could  stand  it  no  longer  stabbing 
at  the  few  dead  Boxers  we  had  secured.  We  had  none 
of  us  imagined  we  were  coming  to  such  scenes  as  these; 
for  nobody  would  have  believed  that  such  brutal  things 
were  possible.  When  we  judged  we  had  finished  rescu- 
ing every  one  alive,  a  man  in  the  most  pitiable  condition 
ran  out  from  behind  the  smouldering  cathedral  carrying 
a  newly  severed  human  head  in  either  hand.  He  seemed 
but  little  abashed  when  he  saw  us,  but  came  forward 
rapidly  enough  towards  us,  glancing  the  while  over  his 
shoulder.  Several  sailors  were  rushing  at  him  with  their 
bayonets,  ready  to  spit  him,  when  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
and,  tearing  open  his  tunic,  disclosed  to  our  astonished 
eyes  a  bronze  crucifix  with  a  silver  Christ  hung  on  it. 
"Je  snis  catholique,"  he  cried  to  us  repeatedly  and 
rapidly  in  fair  French,  and  the  sailors  stayed  their 
cold  steel  until  we  had  extracted  an  explication.  Then 
it  transpired  that  he  had  used  this  horrible  device  to 
escape  the  notice  of  some-  Boxers  who  were  still  at 
work  in  a  street  on  the  other  side  of  the  cathedral. 
We  ran  round  promptly  on  hearing  this,  and  caught 
sight   of    a    few    fellows   stripped   to   the    waist,    and 


BARRICADES  AND   RELIEFS  73 

gory  with  blood  as  I  have  never  seen  men  before. 
Instead  of  fleeing,  they  met  our  charge  with  resolution, 
and  one  tall  fellow  put  me  in  considerable  danger  of  my 
life  with  a  long  spear,  finally  escaping  before  we  could 
shoot  him  down. 

On  this  side  the  ruins  of  the  cathedral  were  covered 
with  corpses  burned  black  from  the  heat  of  the  flames 
and  exposure  to  the  sun.  One  woman,  by  some  freak 
of  nature,  had  her  arms  poised  above  her  head  as  she 
sat  dead,  shrivelled  almost  beyond  human  recognition. 
It  was  probable  that  the  Boxers  had  pitched  many  of 
their  victims  alive  into  the  flames  and  driven  them  back 
with  their  swords  and  spears  whenever  they  attempted 
to  escape.  .    .    . 

At  last  we  got  away  with  everybody  who  was  still  alive, 
as  far  as  we  could  judge.  Tramping  back  slowly  and 
painfully,  the  rescued  looked  the  most  pitiable  concourse 
I  have  ever  seen.  Somehow  it  was  exactly  like  that  elo- 
quent picture  in  "Michael  Strogoff,"  showing  the  clouds 
of  Siberian  prisoners  being  driven  away  by  Feofar 
Khan's  Tartars  after  the  capture  of  Omsk.  Among  our 
people  there  were  the  same  old  granddames,  wrinkled 
and  white  haired,  supporting  themselves  with  crooked 
sticks  and  hobbling  painfully  on  their  mutilated  feet; 
the  same  mothers  with  their  children  sucking  their 
breasts;  the  same  little  boys  and  little  girls  laden  with 
a  few  miserable  rags;  the  same  able-bodied  men  carrying 
the  food  they  had  saved.  The  older  people  gazed 
straight  in  front  of  them  with  the  stolid  despair  of 
the  fatalist  East,  and  did  not  utter  a  word.  A  woman 
who  had  given  birth  to  a  child  the  very  night  before  was 
being  carried  on  a  single  plank  slung  on  ropes,  with  a 
green-white  pallor  of  death  on  her  features.     I  have 


74  INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

never  taken  part  in  such  a  remarkable  procession  as 
this. 

Thus  bloodstained  and  very  weary  we  finally  reached 
our  Legation  quarter,  and  once  again  the  energy  and 

resolution  of  Dr.  M expressed  themselves.     The 

grounds  of  the  Su  wang-fu,  belonging  to  the  Manchu 
prince  Su,  where  the  first  Boxer  we  had  openly  seen  had 
sought  refuge  a  few  days  previously,  were  comman- 
deered by  him,  and  by  evening  nearly  a  thousand  Cath- 
olic refugees  were  crowded  into  its  precincts.  All  day 
people  were  labouring  to  bring  in  rice  and  food  for  their 
people,  and  camp-fires  were  soon  built  at  which  they 
could  cook  their  meals.  Several  of  the  chefs  de  mission 
were  again  much  alarmed  at  this  action  of  ours  in  openly 
rescuing  Chinese  simply  because  they  were  doubtful  co- 
religionists. They  say  that  this  action  will  make  us  pay 
dearly  with  our  own  lives;  that  the  Legations  will  be 
attacked;  that  we  cannot  possibly  defend  ourselves 
against  the  numbers  which  will  be  brought  to  bear 
against  us;  that  we  are  fools.  Perhaps  we  are,  but  still 
there  is  some  comfort  in  discovering  that  this  nest  of 
diplomacy  still  contains  a  few  men. 

Meanwhile  there  is  not  a  word  of  news  from  S , 

and  there  are  indications  that  our  despatches  to  the  Chi- 
nese Government,  which  are  being  sent  from  every 
Legation  more  and  more  urgently,  are  hardly  read. 
The  situation  is  becoming  more  and  more  impossible, 
and  our  servants  say  it  is  useless  bringing  in  any  news, 
as  there  is  such  confusion  in  the  Palace  that  nobody 
knows  anything  reliable. 


XI 

SOME  MEN  AND  THINGS 

1 6th  June,  1900. 


No  developments  have  taken  place  during  the  past  few 
hours.  So  far  very  few  men  have  been  conspicuous;  and 
as  it  is  these  few  who  have  brought  about  the  only  devel- 
opments, and  outlined  our  position,  and  that  they  are  to- 
day all  terribly  tired,  we  have  absolute  monotony.  I 
have  not  heard  what  the  German  Minister  has  been  do- 
ing, but  it  is  rumoured  that  he  is  engaged  in  trying  to 
re-establish  communication  with  Tientsin  and  the  sea 
by  bribing  the  Tsung-li  Yamen  smaller  officials  to  take 
down  packets  of  his  despatches  by  pony-express.  It 
seems  doubtful  whether  this  will  succeed.  For  all  com- 
munication has  absolutely  ceased  now,  and  the  Customs 
postal  carriers  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  through 
by  any  stratagem,  as  all  the  roads  are  swarming  with 
Boxers  and  banditti.  The  Chinese  Government,  in  its 
few  despatches  to  some  of  the  Legations,  is  clearly  tem- 
porising and  trying  to  save  itself.  There  is  no  means  of 
knowing  what  is  going  on  inside  the  Palace,  or  of  under- 
standing what  the  Empress  Dowager  has  decided. 
Everybody  says  it  is  all  topsy-turvydom  now  in  the  capi- 
tal, and  that  the  most  extraordinary  reports  are  coming 
in  from  the  provinces.  Our  Chinese  despatch  writers, 
our  Manchu  servants,  and  the  few  natives  who  come 


76  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

through  our  barricaded  streets,  all  say  the  same  thing — 
that  it  is  too  soon  to  speak,  but  that  the  dangers  are  enor- 
mous. Meanwhile  the  more  timid  of  these  people  at- 
tached to  the  Legation  area  are  sending  word  that  they 
are  sick  and  cannot  come  any  more.  It  is  a  polite  way  of 
saying  that  they  are  afraid.  I  do  not  blame  them,  since 
anything  now  is  possible.  You  cannot  surely  ask  men  to 
sacrifice  themselves  when  they  are  only  bound  to  you 
by  the  hire  system.  Such  is  the  external  and  general 
situation. 

Within  our  own  quarter  things  are  much  the  same,  de- 
veloping naturally  along  the  line  of  least  resistance. 

Now  that  Prince  Su's  palace  grounds  have  been  openly 
converted  into  a  Roman  Catholic  sanctuary,  hundreds  of 
converts  are  pouring  in  on  us  from  everywhere,  laden 
with  their  pots  and  pans,  their  beds,  and  their  bundles  of 
rice;  indeed,  carrying  every  imaginable  thing.   The  great 

Northern  Cathedral  and  Monseigneur  F are  in  no 

danger,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  since  the  cathedral 
and  its  extensive  grounds  are  surrounded  by  powerful 
walls  and  the  bishop  has  now  got  his  fifty  guards  and 
possibly  a  couple  of  thousand  young  native  Catholics, 
who  can  probably  be  armed  and  fight.  So  although  it 
seems  as  if  the  whole  Roman  Catholic  population  of  Pe- 
king is  pouring  in  on  us,  we  are  in  reality  only  getting  a 
few  hundred  miserables  who  had  no  time  to  fly  to  their 
chief  priest  when  the  storm  caught  them;  we  have  to 
prepare  for  the  worst,  as  everything  is  developing  very 
slowly. 

Even  in  this  matter  of  Chinese  refugees  the  attitude  of 
our  foolish  Legations  is  rather  inexplicable.  Actually  up 
to  within  a  few  days  ago  some  of  the  Ministers  were  still 
resolutely  refusing  to  entertain  the  idea  that  native  Chris- 


SOME   MEN  AND   THINGS  77 

tians — men  who  have  been  estranged  from  their  own 
countrymen  and  marked  as  pariahs  because  they  have 
listened  to  the  white  man's  gospel — could  be  brought 
within  the  Legation  area.  In  consequence  of  this  hardly 
any  Chinese  Protestants  have  as  yet  come  in.  Of  course 
circumstances,  the  force  of  example,  and  a  timidity  in  the 
face  of  the  growing  irritation,  have  at  length  broken 
down  this  weak-kneed  attitude,  but  people  have  not  yet 
finished  discussing  it.  For  instance,  there  is  a  remark- 
able story  about  the  well-known  S ,  who  wrote  that 

celebrated  book,  "Chinese  Characteristics."  He  turned 
up  at  the  British  Legation  late  one  evening,  long  before 
the  Boxers  entered  the  Tartar  city,  and  brought  positive 

proof  that  unless  S was  hurried  in  we  would  all 

be  murdered  by  a  conspiracy  headed  by  the  most  power- 
ful men.    S was  kept  waiting  for  an  hour,  and  then 

told  that  no  time  could  be  spared  to  see  him  as  every- 
body was  busy  writing  despatches!  This  is  indeed  our 
whole  situation  expressed  in  a  trivial  incident;  all  the 
plenipotentiaries  are  trying  to  save  their  positions  and 
their  careers  by  violent  despatch-writing  at  the  eleventh 
hour.  They  know  perfectly  well  that  it  is  they  alone 
who  are  responsible  for  the  present  impasse,  and  that 
even  if  they  come  out  alive  they  are  all  hopelessly  com- 
promised. Young  O told  me  that  in  their  Legation 

they  were  actually  antedating  their  despatches  so  as  to 
be  on  the  safe  side!  This  shows  how  absolutely  inex- 
cusable has  been  the  whole  policy  for  three  entire  weeks. 
We  do  not  know  what  is  going  on  around  us;  we  do 
not  know  of  what  the  Peking  Court  is  thinking;  we  do 

not  know  by  whom  S has  been  stopped.     We  know 

nothing  now  excepting  that  we  are  gradually  but  surely 
getting  so  dirty  that  our  tempers  cannot  but  be  vile.  One 


78  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

never  realises  how  great  a  part  soap  and  water  play  in 
one's  scheme  of  things  until  times  like  these.  With  up- 
turned Peking  carts  blocking  the  ingresses  to  our  quar- 
ter; with  everything  disgruntled  and  out  of  order;  with 
native  Christians  crowding  in  on  us,  sensible  heathen 
servants  bolting  as  hard  as  they  can,  ice  running  short, 
we,  the  eleven  Legations  of  Peking,  await  with  some 
fear  and  trepidation  and  an  ever-increasing  discomfort 
our  various  fates  under  the  shadow  of  the  gloomy 
Tartar  Wall.  What  is  to  be  the  next  thing?  I  could 
possibly  imagine  and  write  something  about  this  were  I 
not  so  tired. 


XII 

HELL  HOUNDS 

Night,  17th  June,  1900. 


It  is  past  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  but  in  spite  of  the 
late  hour  and  my  fatigue — I  have  been  dead  tired  for 
a  week  now — I  am  writing  this  with  the  greatest  ease, 
my  pen  gliding,  as  it  were,  over  a  surface  of  ice-like 
slippiness,  although  my  fingers  are  all  blistered  from 
manual  work.  Why,  you  will  ask?  Well,  simply  be- 
cause my  imagination  is  afire,  and  taking  complete  con- 
trol of  such  minor  things  as  the  nerves  and  muscles  of 
my  right  arm,  my  eyes  and  my  general  person,  it  speeds 
me  along  with  astonishing  celerity.  Let  your  imagina- 
tion be  aflame  and  you  can  do  anything.  .    .    . 

It  began  last  night.  No  sooner  had  the  gates  which 
pierce  the  Tartar  Wall  been  closed  by  the  Imperial 
guards,  who  still  remain  openly  faithful  to  their  duties, 
than  there  arose  such  a  shouting  and  roaring  as  I 
have  never  heard  before  and  never  thought  possible.  It 
was  the  Boxers.  The  first  time  the  Boxers  had  rushed 
in  on  us,  it  was  through  the  Ha-ta  Gate  to  the  east  of 
the  Legations.  Last  night,  after  having  for  three  days 
toured  the  Tartar  city  pillaging,  looting,  burning  and 
slaying,  with  their  progress  quite  unchecked  except  for 
those  few  hundred  rifle  shots  of  our  own,  the  major  part 
of  the  Boxer  fraternity,  to  whom  had  joined  themselves 
all  the  many  rapscallions  of  Peking,  found  themselves  in 
the  Chinese  or  outer  city  after  dark,  and  consequently 


80  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

debarred  from  coming  near  their  legitimate  prey.  (The 
gates  are  still  always  closed  as  before.)  Somebody  must 
have  told  them  that  they  could  do  as  they  liked  with 
Christians  and  Europeans;  for,  mad  with  rage,  they 
began  shouting  and  roaring  in  chorus  two  single  words, 
"Sha-shao,"  kill  and  burn,  in  an  ever-increasing  cres- 
cendo. I  have  heard  a  very  big  mass  of  Russian 
soldiery  give  a  roar  of  welcome  to  the  Czar  some 
years  ago,  a  roar  which  rose  in  a  very  extraordinary 
manner  to  the  empyrean;  but  never  have  I  heard  such 
a  blood-curdling  volume  of  sound,  such  a  vast  bellowing 
as  began  then  and  there,  and  went  on  persistently,  hour 
after  hour,  without  ever  a  break,  in  a  maddening  sort  of 
way  which  filled  one  with  evil  thoughts.  Sometimes  for 
a  few  moments  the  sound  sank  imperceptibly  lower  and 
lower  and  seemed  making  ready  to  stop.  Then  rein- 
forced by  fresh  thousands  of  throats,  doubtless  wetted 
by  copious  drafts  of  samshu,  it  grew  again  suddenly, 
rising  stronger  and  stronger,  hoarser  and  hoarser,  more 
insane  and  more  possessed,  until  the  tympanums  of  our 
ears  were  so  tortured  that  they  seemed  fit  to  burst. 
Could  walls  and  gates  have  fallen  by  mere  will  and 
throat  power,  ours  of  Peking  would  have  clattered  down 
Jericho-like.  Our  womenfolk  were  frozen  with  horror 
— the  very  sailors  and  marines  muttered  that  this  was 
not  to  be  war,  but  an  Inferno  of  Dante  with  fresh 
horrors.  You  could  feel  instinctively  that  if  these  men 
got  in  they  would  tear  us  from  the  scabbards  of  our 
limbs.  It  was  pitch  dark,  too,  and  in  the  gloom  the 
towers  and  battlements  of  the  Tartar  Wall  loomed  up 
so  menacingly  that  they,  too,  seemed  ready  to  fall  in  and 
crush  us. 
For  possibly  three  or  four  hours  this  insane  demonstra- 


HELL  HOUNDS  81 

tion  proceeded  apace.  The  Manchu  guards  listened 
gloomily  and  curiously  from  the  inside  of  the  gates,  but 
made  no  attempt  to  open  them,  but  they  equally  refused 
sullenly  to  parley  with  a  strong  body  of  sailors  and 
volunteers  we  sent  with  instructions  to  shoot  any  one 
attempting  to  unlock  the  barriers.  Yet  it  was  evident 
that  the  guards  had  received  special  instructions,  and 
that  the  gates  would  not  be  handed  over  to  the  mob. 

A  few  minutes  before  midnight  the  sounds  became 
more  sullen,  and  beneath  the  general  uproar  another 
note,  one  of  those  in  distress,  began,  as  it  were,  like  an 
undercurrent  to  this  pandemonium.  The  cause  we  had 
not  long  to  seek,  for  presently  flames  began  to  shoot 
up,  a  sight  we  were  by  now  well  accustomed  to,  though 
not  in  this  purely  trading  quarter  of  the  city.  The  fire, 
started  with  savage  disregard  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
most  densely  populated  street  of  the  Chinese  city,  spread 
with  terrible  rapidity.  Soon  both  sides  of  Ch'ien  Men 
great  street,  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tartar  Wall, 
were  enveloped  in  raging  flames,  and  a  lurid  light,  grow- 
ing ever  brighter  and  brighter,  turned  the  dark  night 
into  an  unnatural  day. 

Between  the  incendiaries  and  ourselves  the  great  Tartar 
Wall  stood  firm,  but  though  this  ancient  defence  against 
other  barbarians  was  an  effective  protection  for  us,  it 
could  not  long  remain  immune  itself.  The  loa,  or 
square  pagoda-like  tower  facing  the  Chinese  city  side, 
caught  some  of  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
sparks  flying  skywards,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
vast  pile  was  burning  as  fiercely  as  the  rest.  The  great 
rafters  of  Burmese  teak,  brought  by  Mongol  Khans  six 
centuries  before  to  Peking,  were  as  dry  as  tinder  with 
the  dryness  of  ages;  and  thus  almost  before  we  had 


82  INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM  PEKING 

noted  that  the  bottom  of  the  tower  was  well  alight  the 
flames  were  shooting  through  the  roof  and  out  through 
the  hundreds  of  little  square  windows  which  in  olden 
days  were  lined  by  archers.  Higher  and  higher  the 
flames  leaped,  until  the  top  of  the  longest  tongues  of 
fire,  pouring  out  through  a  funnel  of  brick,  was  hun- 
dreds of  feet  above  the  ground  level.  Only  Vereschagin 
could  have  done  justice  to  this  holocaust;  I  have  never 
seen  anything  so  barbarically  splendid. 

Meanwhile  below  this  in  the  Chinese  city  all  had  be- 
come quiet,  except  for  the  increasing  and  growing  roar 
of  the  all-devouring  flames.  The  Boxers,  as  if  appalled 
by  their  own  handiwork  and  the  mournful  sight  of  the 
capital  in  flames,  had  retreated  into  their  haunts  and 
had  left  the  unfortunate  townfolk  to  battle  with  this 
disaster  as  they  could.  From  the  top  of  the  wall,  which 
I  hastily  climbed  as  soon  as  I  obtained  permission  to 
leave  my  post,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  figures 
could  be  seen  moving  hurriedly  about  laden  with  mer- 
chandise, which  they  were  attempting  to  save.  Busy  as 
ants,  these  wonderful  Chinese  traders  were  rescuing  as 
much  of  their  invested  capital  from  the  very  embrace  of 
the  flames  as  they  could  at  a  moment  when  the  Boxer 
patriots,  menacing  and  killing  them  with  sword  and 
spears  as  san  mao-tzu,  or  third-class  barbarians  who  sold 
the  cursed  foreigners'  stuffs  and  products,  had  hardly 
disappeared. 

Yet  it  seemed  vain,  indeed,  to  talk  of  salvage  with  half 
the  city  in  flames,  for  other  fires  now  began  mysteriously 
in  other  places,  which  "lighted"  the  horizon.  "Tout 
Pekin  brule,"  muttered  a  French  sailor  to  me  as  I  passed 
back  to  my  post,  and  his  careless  remark  made  me  think 
that  this  was  the   Commune   and   Sansculottism   inter- 


HELL   HOUNDS  83 

mixed — the  ends  of  two  centuries  tumbled  together — 
because  we  foreigners  had  upset  the  equilibrium  of  the 
Far  East  with  our  importunities  and  our  covetousness 
of  the  Yellow  Man's  possessions.  .   .   . 

And  what  of  S ,  what  of  the  Peking  Govern- 
ment— what  is  everybody  in  the  outside  world  doing — 
the  distant  world  of  which  we  have  so  suddenly  lost  all 
trace,  while  we  are  passing  through  such  times?  We 
do  not  know;  we  have  no  idea;  we  have  almost  for- 
gotten to  think  about  it.     S was  heard  of  twice 

some  days  ago  from  Langfang,  a  station  only  forty 
miles  from  Peking,  but  why  he  does  not  advance,  why 
there  is  this  intolerable  delay,  we  do  not  know.  The 
Peking  Government  is  still  decreeing  and  counter- 
decreeing  night  and  day  according  to  the  Government 
Gazettes.  The  Ministers  of  our  eleven  Legations  are 
meeting  one  another  almost  hourly,  and  are  eternally 
discussing,  but  are  doing  nothing  else.  We  have  blocked 
our  roads  with  barricades  and  provided  our  servants 
and  dependents  with  passes  written  in  English,  French, 
German,  Italian,  Russian  and  Chinese — so  that  every 
one  can  understand.  We  are  now  sick  of  such  a  multi- 
tude of  languages  and  wish  all  the  world  spoke 
Volapiik. 

Thus  with  our  rescued  native  Christians,  our  few 
butchered  Boxers,  our  score  and  more  of  fires  lighting 
the  whole  of  the  horizon,  here  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
of  the  1 6th  of  June  we  are  no  further  forward  in 
our  political  situation  than  we  were  two  and  a  half 
weeks  ago,  when  our  Legation  Guards  arrived,  and  we 
esteemed  ourselves  so  secure.  Two  and  a  half  weeks 
ago!  It  seems  at  least  two  and  a  half  months;  but  that 
is  merely  the  direct  fault  of  having  to  live  nearly  twice 
the  proper  number  of  hours  in  twenty-four. 


XIII 

A  FEW  CRUMBS 

1 8th  June,  1900. 


It  has  just  transpired  that  Hsu  Tung,  an  infamous 
Manchu  high  official,  who  has  been  the  Emperor's  tutor, 
and  whose  house  is  actually  on  Legation  Street  some 
fifty  yards  inside  the  lines  of  the  Italian  Legation,  has 
been  allowed  to  pass  out  of  our  barricaded  quarter,  go- 
ing quite  openly  in  his  blue  and  red  official  chair.  This 
is  a  terrible  mistake  which  we  may  pay  for  dearly. 

Hsu  Tung  is  a  scoundrel  who  is  at  least  thorough  in 
his  convictions  as  far  as  we  are  concerned.  It  is  he  who 
has  long  been  boasting — and  all  Peking  has  been  repeat- 
ing his  boast — that  in  the  near  future  he  is  going  to  line 
his  sedan  chair  with  the  hides  of  foreign  devils  and  fill 
his  harem  with  their  women;  and  it  is  he,  above  all  other 
men,  who  should  have  been  seized  by  us,  held  as  hos- 
tage, and  shot  out  of  hand  the  very  moment  the  Chinese 
Government  gives  its  open  official  sanction  to  this  insane 
Boxer  policy.  Had  we  acted  in  this  way  and  taken 
charge  of  a  number  of  other  high  officials  who  live  just 
around  us,  we  might  have  shown  the  trembling  govern- 
ment that  a  day  of  retribution  is  certain  to  come.  And 
yet  listen  what  happened.  Either  on  the  15th  or  16th 
Hsu'  Tung  sent  the  majordomo  of  his  household  cring- 
ing to  the  French  Legation  for  a  passepartout.  He  had 
already  tried  once  to  escape  by  way  of  the  Italian  barri- 


A   FEW   CRUMBS  85 

cades,  but  had  been  sternly  ordered  back,  and  his  house 
placed  under  watch.  Somehow,  through  the  foolishness 
of  an  interpreter  of  the  French  Legation,  he  got  his 
safe-conduct  pass,  and  started  out  bold  as  brass  in  the 
morning,  seated  in  his  official  chair  and  accompanied  by 
his  official  outriders.  He  passed  a  first  French  barricade 
and  reached  an  outer  second  barrier  manned  by  volun- 
teers, who  challenged  him  roughly  and  then  refused  to 
let  him  pass. 

The  outriders  then  tried  to  ride  our  men  down,  and  it 
needed  a  rifle-shot  to  bring  them  to  their  senses.  For- 
tunately nobody  was  hurt,  and  presently  the  youthful 
volunteers  had  Hsu  Tung  himself  out  of  the  chair,  and 
kept  him  seated  on  the  ground  while  they  debated 
whether  they  should  respect  the  French  pass  or  strap 
the  great  man  up  and  send  him  to  their  own  quarters  as 
a  prisoner  of  war. 

In  the  end,  however,  one  of  the  secretaries  came  up  and 
inquired  what  it  all  meant,  and  then,  of  course,  weak 
counsels  prevailed,  and  Hsu  Tung  was  allowed  to  sneak 
off  unmolested  down  a  side  lane. 

This  incident  is  typical  as  showing  the  stamp  of  men 
who  have  commanding  voices  in  our  beleaguered  quar- 
ter. 

God  help  us  if  any  considerable  force  is  sent  against  us, 
for  we  can  never  help  ourselves.  Every  proper-minded 
young  man  is  a  natural  soldier  methinks,  even  in  Anno 
Domini  1900,  but  every  elderly  person  in  the  same  year 
of  grace  is  quite  valueless — that  is  what  we  have  already 
discovered. 

And  yet  even  to-day  all  the  senior  people  in  our  Lega- 
tion area — those  who  are  our  guides  and  mentors — 
though  they  be  secretly  much  alarmed,  are  comforting 


86  INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

themselves  with  a  great  deal  of  garrulous  talk  because 
a  letter  has  arrived  from  Tientsin — in  fact,  several  let- 
ters have  arrived.  This  is  the  first  reliable  news  we 
have  had  for  many  days,  and  everybody  seems  now  to 
imagine  that  we  are  safe.  The  chief  item  in  these  fate- 
ful missives  seems  to  be  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathe- 
dral at  Tientsin  has  also  been  burned;  that  this  was 
accompanied  by  massacres  of  native  converts;  and  that 
the  riverine  port  is  swarming  with  Boxers.     And  there 

is    no    news   of    S ,    no   news    of   anything    good. 

What  has  become  of  him  we  cannot  imagine.  Yet  Min- 
isters, secretaries,  and  elderly  nondescripts  are  somewhat 
relieved,  and  go  about  nervously  smiling  in  a  very  ridic- 
ulous way.  No  one  can  quite  make  out  why  they  are 
relieved,  excepting,  perhaps,  that  they  are  delighted  to 
find  that  the  visible  world  still  exists  elsewhere,  and  goes 
on  revolving  on  its  own  axis  in  spite  of  our  dilemma. 
Why  should  the  obvious  be  so  often  discovered? 

Our  poor  Legation  Guards  and  their  commanding 
officers,  with  whom  we  were  so  pleased  a  fortnight  ago, 
are  quite  as  crushed  as  every  one  else  now — perhaps  even 
more.  You  see  the  rank  and  file  are  merely  a  crowd  of 
uneducated  sailors,  who  have  not  yet  made  head  or  tail 
of  what  all  this  Peking  boideversement  means.  They 
were  suddenly  entrained  and  rushed  up  to  Peking  many 
days  ago;  they  arrived  in  the  dark;  they  were  crammed 
into  their  respective  Legations  as  quickly  as  possible; 
they  have  done  a  little  patrol  and  picquet  work  on  the 
streets,  and  have  stood  expectantly  behind  barricades 
which  they  were  told  to  erect;  but  otherwise  they  are  as 
completely  at  sea  again  as  if  they  were  back  to  their 
ships.  ...  In  all  the  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke  around 
them,  how  can  they  understand?     It  is  true  I   have 


A   FEW   CRUMBS  87 

rather  a  grudge  against  some  persons  of  the  Legation 
defenders  as  yet  unknown,  and  think  of  them  perhaps  a 
little  angrily,  for,  like  all  soldiery,  they  loot.  They  have 
already  taken  my  field-glasses,  an  excellent  revolver,  and 
several  other  things  during  the  confusion  of  the  nights. 
Of  course  this  is  the  fortune  of  war,  as  all  old  cam- 
paigners will  tell  you,  but  a  more  decent  interval  should 
have  been  allowed  to  elapse  before  beginning  the  inevi- 
table stripping  process.   .   .   . 

As  for  the  detachment  officers,  some  of  them  are  very 
good  fellows  and  some  of  them  are  not;  but  already  they 
have  each  of  them  instinctively  adopted  the  old  attitude 
of  the  Legations  towards  one  another.  They  are  mutu- 
ally suspicious.  The  detachment  officers  are  also  con- 
siderably tired  and  in  very  bad  tempers,  for  the  night 
has  been  turned  into  day  with  a  regularity  which  cannot 
leave  anybody  very  happy.  Then  dirt  is  accumulating, 
too,  sad  truth;  and  in  the  East  you  cannot  feel  dirty 
in  the  summer  and  be  happy.  That  is  quite  im- 
possible.  .   .   . 

Thus  we  are  all  in  a  very  grunting  frame  of  mind.  The 
British  Legation  appears  to  be  at  length  hopelessly 
crowded  with  perspiring  missionaries  of  all  denomina- 
tions and  creeds,  who  have  suddenly  come  in  from  be- 
yond the  barricades.  Life  must  be  quite  impossible 
there.  The  novelty  of  this  experience  has  been  worn  off, 
and  I  for  one  would  welcome  any  change,  either  for  bet- 
ter or  worse.   So  long  as  it  is  only  a  change.    .    .    . 


XIV 

THE  ULTIMATUM 

19th  June,   1900. 


How  foolish  we  can  be !  Only  last  night  I  was  bewail- 
ing the  dulness  and  the  dirt  of  it  all,  and  the  general 
absurdity  and  discomfort,  and  now  without  one  qualm  I 
confess  I  would  willingly  exchange  yesterday's  uncer- 
tainty for  to-day's  certainty — that  we  are  all  going  to  be 
made  into  mincemeat.  But  I  do  not  even  feel  serious  or 
desperate  now;  it  has  got  beyond  that. 

I  do  not  know  at  what  hour  the  ultimatum  came  to- 
day; it  may  have  been  eleven  in  the  morning  or  one  in 
the  afternoon;  but  one  thing  I  do  know  is,  that  here,  at 
four  in  the  afternoon,  the  great  majority  of  one  thou- 
sand Europeans  are  shaking,  absolutely  distraught.  It 
is  evident  therefrom  that  there  is  something  impressive 
and  demoralising  to  most  people  in  the  idea  of  finality, 
and  that  on  the  threshold  of  the  twentieth  century,  cour- 
age, since  it  is  seldom  dealt  in,  is  hardly  a  great  living 
force.  It  makes  one  realise,  too,  that  with  all  their 
faults,  the  aristocrats  of  France,  who,  a  hundred  years 
ago,  were  condemned  to  the  shameful  death  of  the  guil- 
lotine and  went  in  their  tumbrils  through  streets  filled 
with  cursing  crowds  of  sansculottes,  with  scorn  and  con- 
tempt written  on  their  features,  were  rather  exceptional 
people.  Things  have  changed  since  then,  and  the  so- 
called  Americanisation  of  the  world  has  not  conduced  to 


THE   ULTIMATUM  89 

gallantry.  Fortunate  are  we  that  there  is  no  white 
man's  audience  to  watch  us  impassively,  and  to  witness 
the  effects  of  this  bombshell  of  an  ultimatum  which  has 
come  to-day.  There  is  nothing  so  humiliating  as  abject 
fear.  Curiously  enough,  the  women  bear  it  much  better 
than  the  elder  men,  who  are  openly  distraught;  and 
when  I  say  women,  I  mean  all  the  women,  both  those 
belonging  to  the  Legations  and  the  dozens  of  mission- 
ary women  who  have  crowded  in.  Nearly  every  one 
of  them  is  better  than  the  elderly  men ;  at  least,  they 
try  and  say  nothing  so  as  not  to  add  to  the  terrible  con- 
fusion.  .   .   . 

But  the  ultimatum — what  is  it,  and  against  whom  is 
it  so  summarily  directed?  Briefly  the  ultimatum  is  a 
neat-looking  document  written  on  striped  Chinese  de- 
spatch-paper, and  comes  from  the  Tsung-li  Yamen,  or 
office  charged  with  the  overseeing  of  "the  outside  na- 
tions' affairs" — which  are  the  affairs  of  Europe.  After 
very  briefly  referring  to  a  demand  made  by  the  allied 
admirals  for  a  surrender  of  the  Taku  forts  off  the 
muddy  bar  of  the  Tientsin  River — about  which  we  know 
nothing — it  goes  on  to  say  that  as  China  can  no  longer 
protect  the  Legations,  the  Legations  will  have  to  protect 
themselves  by  leaving  Peking  within  twenty-four  hours, 
dating  from  to-day  at  four  o'clock.  That  is  all.  Not 
another  word.  Yet  in  other  words  this  document  means 
this :  that  the  demand  of  the  admirals  must  have  been 
refused ;  that  they  would  not  have  made  it  unless  some- 
thing disastrous  had  happened  to  S and  to  Tient- 
sin; that  acts  of  war  have  already  been  committed,  and 
that  it  will  be  no  longer  a  Boxer  affair,  but  a  govern- 
ment affair.  This  makes  our  position  desperate  enough 
in  all  truth.     There  is  to  be  war.  .  . 


90  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

The  ultimatum  was  conveyed  to  the  eleven  Legations 
and  the  Inspectorate-General  of  Foreign  Customs  in 
twelve  neat  red  envelopes  by  trembling  t'ing  ch'ai  of  the 
Chinese  Government,  and  in  spite  of  some  attempt  at 
first  to  hide  its  contents  was  soon  known  by  every  one. 
The  twelve  copies,  indeed,  were  exactly  alike,  twelve 
bombshells,  which,  bursting  in  twelve  different  parts 
of  our  barricaded  quarter,  finally  united  their  fumes  un- 
til we  were  all  fairly  suffocated.  For  we  have  either 
got  to  flee  now  or  be  butchered.  Mechanically  all  eyes 
were  turned  at  once  to  the  chiefs  of  the  eleven  missions 
to  China,  who  have  brought  things  to  such  a  pass,  and 
everybody  demanded  frantically  that  something  should 
be  done.  People  lost  control  of  themselves  and  behaved 
insanely.  It  was  not  long  before  the  whole  diplomatic 
body  met — in  a  terrible  gloom — at  the  Legation  of  the 
Spanish  Minister,  who  is  the  doyen  of  the  Corps,  and 
soon  a  tremendous  discussion  was  raging.  There  were 
mutual  recriminations,  and  proposal  after  proposal  was 
taken  up  and  rejected  as  being  too  dangerous.  Nobody 
had  for  a  moment  dreamed  that  such  a  menace  would 
come  so  swiftly.  Expectant  crowds  soon  gathered  round 
the  gates  of  the  Spanish  Legation,  and  attempted  to 
find  out  what  was  being  decided,  but  the  only  thing  I 

could  learn  was  that  brave  Von  K proposed  at  once 

that  the  Ministers  should  go  in  a  body  to  the  Yamen 
and  force  the  Chinese  Government  to  agree  to  an  armis- 
tice. This  was  vetoed  by  all,  of  course,  and  one  gentle- 
man openly  wept  at  the  idea.  In  the  end,  at  seven 
o'clock,  when  it  was  nearly  dark,  a  joint  Note  was  pre- 
pared, saying  that  the  Ministers  could  only  accept  the 
demand  made  on  them  and  prepare  to  leave  Peking  at 
once,  but  that  twenty-four  hours  was  too  short  a  notice 


THE   ULTIMATUM  91 

in  which  to  pack  their  trunks,  and  that,  besides,  they 
must  have  some  guarantees  as  to  the  ninety  miles  road 
to  Tientsin,  which  were  so  swarming  with  bandits  that 
communication  had  been  completely  interrupted.  That 
is  to  say,  the  Ministers  were  prepared  to  accept.   .   .   . 

No  sooner  had  this  weak  reply  been  despatched  than  a 
fresh  wave  of  consternation  passed  over  the  whole  Lega- 
tion quarter,  for  we  now  number  nearly  a  thousand 
white  people  in  all,  and  we  could  never  march  that  dis- 
tance to  Tientsin  unbroken.  But  beneath  that  wave  of 
consternation  a  fiercer  note  steadily  rose — the  note  of 
revolt  against  the  decrees  of  eleven  men.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe to  you  what  an  intensity  of  passion  was  suddenly 
revealed.  Muttering  first,  this  revolt  became  quite  open 
and  almost  unanimous.  All  of  us  would  have  a  fair 
fight  behind  barricades  and  entrenchments,  but  no  mas- 
sacre of  a  long,  unending  convoy.  For  picture  to  your- 
self what  this  convoy  would  be  crawling  out  of  giant  Pe- 
king in  carts,  on  ponies  and  afoot,  if  it  were  forced  to 
go;  we  would  be  a  thousand  white  people  with  a  vast 
trail  of  native  Christians  following  us,  and  calling  on 
us  not  to  abandon  them  and  their  children.  Do  you 
think  we  could  run  ahead,  while  a  cowardly  massacre 
by  Boxers  and  savage  soldiery  was  hourly  thinning  out 
the  stragglers  and  defenceless  people  in  the  rear? 
Never! 

Hardly  anybody  thought  of  eating  all  that  long  even- 
ing. Most  of  us  were  trying  to  find  out  whether  some 
sensible  understanding  could  not  be  arrived  at;  whether 
we  could  not  prepare  before  it  was  too  late.  But  it 
was  quite  in  vain  to  plan  anything  or  attempt  to  think  of 
anything.  Everything  was  so  topsy-turvy,  everybody 
so  panic-stricken. 


92  INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

But  as  the  night  grew  later  and  later,  some  people 
began  busying  themselves  packing  boxes,  still  delud- 
ing themselves  that  they  were  going  to  leave  comfort- 
ably on  the  morrow  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Yet 
the  world  is  really  upside  down  as  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, and  it  is  quite  absolutely  impossible  that  the 
situation  should  end  so  normally  as  to  find  us  quietly  re- 
treating down  the  Tientsin  road.  Others  kept  sending 
out  servants  to  discover  at  what  price  carts  would  under- 
take to  drive  the  whole  way  down  to  the  sea,  or  at  least 
to  Tientsin.  Forty,  fifty,  and  even  one  hundred  taels 
were  demanded  for  three  days'  work;  and  then,  al- 
though the  carters  said  they  would  come  if  the  govern- 
ment sends  proper  escorts  of  soldiers  as  has  been 
promised,  Heaven  only  knows  if  they  will  ever  dare 
to  move  near  our  stricken  quarter.  Still  in  some  Lega- 
tions they  ordered  fifty  carts  at  any  price,  with  the  most 
lavish  promises  of  reward  for  those  that  could  manage 
to  secure  them.  All  the  official  servants  soon  came  back 
trembling,  saying  that  they  had  found  a  few  carts,  but 
that  it  was  pu  yi  t'ing — not  at  all  sure  whether  the  car- 
ters would  dare  to  move  when  daylight  came.  For  the 
whole  city  is  already  in  a  fresh  uproar;  people  are  flying 
in  every  direction  in  the  night.  Stories  come  in  of 
officials  who  have  been  pulled  out  of  their  chairs  and 
forced  to  K'et'ou  to  Boxers  to  show  their  respect  to  the 
new  power.  Prince  Tuan  has  been  appointed  President 
of  the  Tsung-li  Yamen,  high  Manchus  have  been  placed 
in  charge  of  the  Boxer  commands,  and  rice  is  being 
issued  to  them  from  the  Imperial  granaries.  There  is 
no  end  to  the  tales  that  now  come  in,  since  everybody 
has  understood  that  there  is  no  need  for  concealment 
and  that  there  is  going  to  be  some  sort  of  war.    At  two 


THE   ULTIMATUM  93 

o'clock  I  even  began  to  get  news  of  what  the  Empress 
Dowager  had  been  doing,  and  how  the  Boxer  partisans 
had  become  so  strong  that  it  was  absolutely  impossible 
to  hope  for  anything  but  the  worst. 

Once  when  I  got  some  details  which  I  thought  of  im- 
portance, I  tried  to  find  my  chief  in  order  to  communi- 
cate it  to  him.  But  he  was  lost  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  conferring  unofficially  with  some  of  his  col- 
leagues; and  I  could  but  feel  immensely  amused  when 
in  his  office  I  saw  that  he  had  been  scribbling  some  fren- 
zied notes  on  the  back  of  a  completed  despatch,  dealing 
with  one  of  those  petty  little  affairs  which  were  so  im- 
portant only  the  other  day. 

Ah,  where  are  the  dear  little  political  situations  of  only 
a  few  weeks  ago;  those  safe  little  political  situations 
which  redounded  so  much  to  the  credit  of  those  that  made 
them  and  did  not  contain  any  of  the  dread  elements  of 
our  present  very  real  and  terrible  one !  Like  soldiers 
who  have  degenerated  from  the  chasing  of  mere  vaga- 
bonds of  mediocre  importance,  so  have  our  Peking  Min- 
isters Plenipotentiary  and  Envoys  Extraordinary  fallen 
from  their  proud  estate  to  mere  diplomatic  make-beliefs 
full  of  wind — wind-blown  from  much  tilting  at  wind- 
mills, with  their  Governments  rescuing  them  Sancho 
Panza-like  at  the  eleventh  hour.   .   .   . 

But  though  for  us  there  is  still  some  hope,  there  is  very 
little  for  the  wretched  native  Christians  quartered  in  the 
palace  grounds  of  Prince  Su,  whom  we  have  saved  from 
the  Boxers. 

They  soon  heard  the  news,  too,  that  the  foreigner  who 
has  once  saved  them  is  going — going  away  because  he 
has  been  ordered  to.  All  night  long  there  was  an  awful 
panic  among  these  people  which  made  one's  heart  sick, 


94  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

for  they  understood  better  than  us  how  quickly  they 
would  be  massacred  once  they  left  our  care. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  night  of  the  19th  of  June,  1900, 
with  all  its  tragedy  and  tragi-comedy,  though  I 
live  to  be  a  hundred.  It  allowed  me  to  see  something 
of  real  human  nature  in  momentary  flashes;  of  how 
mean  and  full  of  fear  we  really  are,  how  small  and  how 
easily  impressed.  A  hundred  times  I  longed  to  have  the 
time  and  the  power  to  set  down  exactly  so  that  every  one 
might  understand  the  incidents  and  the  sudden  impulses 
which  took  place — all  prompted  by  that  master  of  hu- 
man beings — FEAR.  That  is  why  we  worship  heroes, 
or  we  pretend  we  worship  them,  because  it  is  the  culte. 
For  a  moment  these  people  who  have  been  set  on  pedes- 
tals were  not  afraid.  Is  it  only  the  power  not  to  be 
afraid  which  makes  one  a  hero? 


XV 

THE   DEBACLE   BEGINS 

20th  June,   1900. 


It  is  notorious  that  in  moments  of  tension,  when  the 
mind  has  been  stimulated  to  too  great  an  activity  by 
unhealthy  excitement,  you  think  of  the  most  curiously 
assorted  things — in  fact,  of  absurd  things  which  are 
quite  out  of  place.  I  have  been  thinking  the  whole  time 
of  something  very  stupid  which  is  only  fiction :  That  a 
Zulu,  named  Umslopagas,  rode  and  ran  one  hundred 
miles  in  a  single  night  and  then  refreshed  himself  suf- 
ficiently by  a  couple  of  hours'  sleep  to  deliver  battle  with 
such  vigour  at  the  head  of  a  marble  staircase,  that  he 
saved  the  haggard  hero.  That  is  what  I  have  been 
thinking  of.   .   .   . 

We  of  Peking  are,  unfortunately,  not  of  the  mettle  of 
Zulus,  and  as  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned,  three 
hours'  sleep  is  but  the  appetite-giver  for  five  hours  more. 
And  so  on  this  fateful  20th  June,  with  the  time  limit  of 
our  ultimatum  expiring  at  four  o'clock,  I  got  up  in  no 
sort  of  valorous  spirit,  and  with  the  feeling  that 
tragedies  outside  the  theatre — at  least  those  that  spin 
themselves  out  for  an  indefinite  number  of  days — are 
quite  impossible  for  us  Moderns.  But,  then,  probably 
everybody  has  always  thought  the  same  thing — even 
those  who  lived  before  the  Renaissance. 

At  eight  o'clock  every  one  was  once  more  afoot,  al- 
though most  have  hardly  had  a  wink  of  sleep.    All  over 


96  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

our  Legation  quarter,  dusty  and  dirty  men,  unwashed 
and  unbathed,  now  squatted  along  the  edge  of  the 
streets,  hanging  their  weary  heads  against  their  rifles, 
with  their  faces  very  white  from  too  much  sentry-go 
and  too  little  sleep.  There  is  little  distinction  between 
sailors  and  Legation  people,  for  we  are  all  in  the  same 
dilemma.  On  this  eventful  20th  of  June,  instead  of  being 
resolute  and  alert,  everybody  is  merely  tired  and  weak- 
ened by  a  couple  of  weeks'  watchfulness  against  Boxers 
during  an  unofficial  semi-siege,  a  state  of  affairs  which 
has  quite  unfitted  us  for  fresh  strains.  Yet  beyond  our 
barricades  of  upturned  carts  and  stolen  building-bricks 
all  was  quiet  and  peaceful,  and  hardly  a  thing  moves. 
It  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  only  dreaming.  .  .  .  Wan- 
dering down  beyond  the  eastern  end  of  Legation  Street, 
which  gives  you  the  most  view  of  the  mysterious  world 
around  the  great  Ha-ta  Street,  which  the  Boxers  have 
conquered,  indeed  you  find  everything  practically  de- 
serted, the  people  having  learned  that  it  is  best  to  stay 
indoors  until  this  crisis  is  solved  in  some  manner.  Oc- 
casionally a  rag-picker,  or  some  humble  person  so  little 
separated  from  the  life  hereafter  that  to  push  a  trifle 
closer  does  not  spell  much  peril,  can  be  seen  hooking  up 
rags  and  whatnots  from  the  piles  of  Peking  offal.  If 
you  speak  to  him  he  gives  an  unintelligent  pit  chih  tao — 
"I  do  not  know" — and  moves  boorishly  on.  As  my  old 
Chinese  writer  said  a  week  ago,  Peking  has  never  been 
in  such  a  state  of  topsy-turvydom  since  the  robber  who 
unseated  the  Ming  dynasty  rushed  in  two  and  a  half 
centuries  ago.  .    .    . 

Going  on  top  of  the  great  Tartar  Wall  and  gazing 
down  on  the  scene  of  devastation  and  ruin  beyond  the 
Ch'ien  Men  Gate,  one  can  hardly  believe  one^s  eyes,  for 


THE  DEBACLE  BEGINS  97 

where  there  was  once  a  mighty  bustle  one  now  sees  thou- 
sands of  houses  with  nothing  but  their  walls  standing 
and  charred  timbers  strewing  the  grounds.  The  great 
burned  tower  which  blazed  so  wondrously  a  few  nights 
ago  is  still  half  standing,  its  mighty  brick-work  too  pow- 
erful and  too  proud  to  succumb  totally  to  the  flames' 
destroying  energy.  Gaunt  and  hollow-eyed,  the  old 
Tartar  tower  surveys  the  scene  somewhat  contemptu- 
ously, as  if  saying  that  the  pigmy  men  of  to-day  are  far 
removed  from  the  paladins  of  old  and  their  works.   .   .   . 

Quiet  and  perfectly  silent  it  all  looks — but  below  the 
tower,  and,  indeed,  on  all  sides  as  far  as  the  eyes  can 
see,  some  search  shows  little  ants  of  men  are  at  work 
in  the  ruins — not  moving  much,  but  bobbing  up  and 
down  with  unending  energy  and  regularity.  They  are 
the  beggars  of  Peking  in  their  hundreds  and  thousands 
salving  what  they  can  from  all  this  immense  destruction 
by  poking  deep  holes  into  the  ruins  and  pulling  out  all 
manner  of  things  from  under  the  mass  of  bricks  and 
rubbish.  In  the  conserving  hands  of  the  Chinaman 
nothing  is  ever  irremediably  destroyed.   .   .   . 

Looking  far  to  the  east,  even  the  Ha-ta  Gate,  where  no 
harm  has  been  done,  does  not  show  much  movement. 
The  carts  passing  in  and  out  are  very  few  and  far  be- 
tween, and  the  dust  which  in  ordinary  times  floats  above 
the  din  and  roar  of  the  gates  in  heavy  clouds  is  to-day 
seemingly  absent.  Even  our  Peking  dust  is  awed  by 
the  approaching  storm  and  nestles  close  to  Mother 
Earth,  so  that  it  may  come  to  no  harm. 

The  more  I  looked  the  more  observant  I  became.  The 
sun  lolling  up  in  a  red  ball,  the  birds,  twittering  and  fly- 
ing about  while  the  heat  of  the  day  is  not  severe,  showed 
themselves  in  a  new  light;  and  thus  the  20th  June  is  ush- 


98  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

ered  in  so  complaisantly,  when  all  the  world  of  men 
appear  merely  tired  and  watchful,  that  the  contrast  makes 
one  wonder,  and  at  nine  o'clock  once  more  our  Ministers 
Plenipotentiary  and  our  Charges  d' Affaires  gather  their 
eleven  estimable  persons  together  at  the  Legation  of  the 
doyen.  For  yesterday's  Ministerial  reply  agreeing  to 
the  Manchu  order  to  vacate  the  capital,  if  certain  con- 
ditions were  fulfilled,  had  begged  for  an  urgent  answer 
by  nine  o'clock  regarding  the  little  counter-demands  for 
a  time-extension,  and  a  definite  arrangement  concerning 
the  Chinese  troops  who  are  to  be  the  safe  conduct  along 
the  Tientsin  road.  Nine  o'clock  has  come,  but  alas! 
with  it  there  is  no  neat  Chinese  despatch  on  striped  pa- 
per which  would  so  relieve  our  Ministerial  feelings.  The 
Chinese  Government  remains  grimly  silent,  for  the  Chi- 
nese Government  has  spoken  plainly  once,  and  never 
within  the  memory  of  man  has  it  done  so  on  two  con- 
secutive occasions.  So  the  eleven  Ministers  meet  once 
more  in  anything  but  a  happy  frame  of  mind — eleven 
sorely  tried  and  wholly  fearful  persons,  except  for  two 
or  three  who  vainly  try  to  instil  some  courage  into  the 
others.  All  idea  of  completing  the  packing  commenced 
last  night  has  vanished;  even  that  would  demand  action 
and  resolution.  A  proposal  to  visit  the  Tsung-li  Yamen 
in  a  body  is  set  aside  with  nervous  protestations  once 
more.  The  meeting  thereupon  became  very  stormy, 
and  the  French  Minister  was  kind  enough  to  report 
afterwards  that  the  British  Minister  became  thereafter 
very  red — il  est  devenu  soudainement  tres  rouge,  for 

what  reason  is  unknown.     S ,  who  did  the  minutes 

afterwards,  said  that  the  French  Minister  volunteered 
to  go  with  the  others  if  they  would  proceed  in  a  body, 
and  became  very  pale  at  the  idea,  that  he  confessed 


THE   DEBACLE   BEGINS  99 

himself.  Here  we  have,  then,  a  red  Minister  and 
a  white  Minister,  and  if  we  add  those  who  were  most 
certainly  blue  and  green,  the  national  flags  of  the  entire 
assembly  could  be  fitly  made  up.  The  French  Minister, 
although  simply  a  citoyen  sent  by  the  Republic  to  in- 
trigue in  times  of  peace,  and  aid  his  Russian  colleague 
to  the  best  of  his  ability,  is  a  man  withal,  although  quite 
unfitted  de  carriere  for  wars  and  sieges.  In  the  French 
Legation  he  has  been  receiving  such  tearful  instructions 
from  his  wife  during  the  past  three  weeks  that  it  is  a 
wonder  he  has  any  backbone  at  all.   .   .   . 

The  meeting  became  stormier  and  stormier  as  it  went 

on,  S says,  until  old  C argued  that  the  only 

way  to  decide  was  to  put  everything  to  the  vote.  Every 
vote  put  was  promptly  lost,  and  after  an  hour's  hag- 
gling they  had  got  no  farther  than  at  the  beginning ! 

The  dramatic  moment  came  when  Baron  Von  K 

got  up  and  stated  shortly  that  as  he  had  a  previous  ap- 
pointment with  the  Tsung-li  Yamen  at  eleven  o'clock,  in 
spite  of  the  ultimatum  and  a  possible  state  of  war — in 
fact,  in  spite  of  everything — it  was  his  intention  to  keep 
his  appointment,  cost  what  it  might.  The  others  urged 
him  not  to  go,  for  they  must  have  been  feeling  rather 
ashamed  of  themselves  and  their  overvalued  lives.     But 

K insisted  he  would  go;  he  had  said  so  once,  and 

did  not  intend  to  allow  the  Chinese  Government  to  say 
he  broke  an  appointment  through  fear. 

S ,  who  told  me  the  whole  story  a  few  hours  after- 
wards, said  that  he  added  that  as  soon  as  his  own  per- 
sonal business  was  finished,  he  would  attend  to  the 
general  question  of  the  Legations'  departure  from  Pe- 
king, if  the  diplomatic  corps  would  give  him  authority. 
As  time  was   pressing  they  gave  it  to  him  promptly 


100         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

enough.  I  remember  everything  that  happened  after- 
wards with  a  very  extraordinary  accuracy  of  detail, 
because  I  had  just  walked  past  the  Spanish  Legation 
when  the  Ministerial  meeting  broke  up,  and  I  had  deter- 
mined to  follow  any  move  in  person  so  as  to  know  what 
our  fate  was  to  be. 

The  German  Minister  turned  into  his  Legation,  and 
after  a  time  he  reappeared  in  his  green  and  red  official 
chair,  with  C ,  the  dragoman,  in  a  similar  convey- 
ance.    There  were   only  two   Chinese   outriders  with 

them,  as  Von  K had  refused  to  take  any  of  his 

guards.  I  remember  Von  K was  smoking  and  lean- 
ing his  arms  on  the  front  bar  of  his  sedan,  for  all  the 
world  as  if  he  were  going  on  a  picnic.  The  little  cortege 
soon  turned  a  corner  and  was  swallowed  up.  I  walked 
out  some  distance  beyond  our  barricades  with  Baron 

R ,  of  the  Russian  Legation,  and  we  wondered  how 

long  he  would  take  to  come  back.  We  soon  knewl 
How  terrible  that  was !  For  not  more  than  fifteen  min- 
utes passed  before,  crashing  their  Manchu  riding-sticks 
terror-stricken  on  to  their  ponies'  hides,  the  two  outriders 
appeared  alone  in  a  mad  gallop  and  nearly  rode  us 
down.  Through  the  barricades  they  passed,  yelling  des- 
perately. It  was  impossible  to  understand  what  they 
were  saying,  but  disaster  was  written  in  the  air. 

At  this  we  started  running  after  these  two  men,  but 
when  we  reached  the  corner  of  the  French  Legation  the 
people  there  had  already  understood,  and  said  the 
German  Minister  had  been  shot  down  and  was  stone- 
dead.    Everybody  was  paralysed. 

Meanwhile  the  outriders  had  reached  the  German 
Legation  and  had  flung  themselves,  disordered,  from 
their  sweating  ponies.    The  men  of  the  Legation  Guard 


THE   DEBACLE  BEGINS  101 

were  swarming  round  them  and  questioning  them 
roughly  when  I  came  up,  but  there  was  nothing  further 

to  be  learned  about  Von  K .     A  shot  had  passed 

through  his  chair  and  he  had  never  moved  again,  while 

other  shots  struck  all  round.     C ,  the   dragoman, 

dripping  with  blood,  had  run  round  a  corner  closely  pur- 
sued by  Chinese  riflemen.  What  happened  to  him  they 
cannot  say,  for  they,  too,  would  have  been  shot  had  they 
not  fled.  The  tragedy  was  so  simple,  but  so  crushing, 
that  we  all  stood  dazed.  Our  one  man  of  character  and 
decision  was  dead — lost  beyond  recall ! 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  this  half  the  German  de- 
tachment was  marching  rapidly  down  Customs  Street, 
with  fixed  bayonets  and  an  air  of  desperation  on  their 
harsh  Teutonic  faces.  They  were  determined  to  try 
and  at  least  save  the  body.  I  thought  of  going  with 
them,  too,  but  a  moment's  thought  told  me  there  were 
other  things  which  were  now  more  pressing.  I  went 
and  gave  some  attention  to  the  contents  of  despatch- 
boxes  which  no  one  else  had  a  right  to  see.   .   .   . 

The  detachment  reached  the  scene  of  the  murder  led 
by  a  trembling  outrider.  Drops  of  blood  were  found 
on  the  ground ;  the  Peking  dust  was  scraped  this  way  and 
that,  as  if  it  had  only  been  made  an  accomplice  unwill- 
ingly and  with  a  violent  struggle  too;  but  the  sedan- 
chairs,  the  bearers,  the  murderous  soldiers,  and  every 
other  trace  had  vanished  completely.  To  question 
people  was  impossible,  since  every  one  was  keeping 
closely  indoors  and  barred  entrances  everywhere  met  the 
eye.  The  Peking  streets  have  become  so  lonely  and 
deserted  that  not  even  a  dog  allows  himself  to  be  en- 
trapped in  the  open.     Later  I  heard  that  C had 

escaped,   although  terribly  wounded. 


102         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

The  detachment  tramped  back  stolidly,  and  would  not 
answer  a  word  when  spoken  to,  for  German  despair  is 
very  gloomy.  The  remaining  Plenipotentiaries  at  last 
understood  the  nature  of  the  rame  that  was  being  played, 
and  realised  that  we  were  down  to  the  naked  and  crude 
facts  of  life  and  death.  Their  confounded  vacillation 
has  alone  brought  us  to  this  pass.  They  do  realise  it 
now,  and  they  are  made  to  realise  it  more  and  more  by 
the  savage  looks  every  one  has  been  giving  them.   .  .  . 

The  departure  for  Tientsin  half-acquiesced  in  but  fif- 
teen short  hours  ago  is  no  longer  thought  of,  for  what 
the  Ministers  propose  to  do  now  interests  no  one. 
After  impotently  attempting  to  deal  with  questions  for 
which  they  were  in  no  wise  fitted  they  have  resigned 
themselves  to  the  inevitable,  and  have  become  mere 
pawns  like  the  rest  of  us.  Fortunately  the  men  who  are 
men  begin  to  work  with  frenzied  energy,  rushing  about 

collecting  food  and  materials.    S ,  the  first  Secretary 

of  the  American  Legation,  began  it,  and  soon  stood  out 
with  some  insistence.  He  guesses  with  no  one  contra- 
dicting him  that  rice  is  useful,  that  flour  is  still  more  use- 
ful, and  that  every  pound  we  can  find  in  the  native  shops 
should  be  taken.  The  obvious  is  often  somewhat  ob- 
scure in  times  like  these,  and  the  men  who  act  are  very 
laudable.  There  is  no  denying  it  that  on  this  20th  the 
Americans  showed  more  energy  than  anybody  else,  and 
pushed  everybody  to  sending  out  their  carts  and  bring- 
ing in  tons  upon  tons  of  food.  Every  shop  containing 
grain  was  raided,  payment  being  made  in  some  cases  and 
in  others  postponed  to  a  more  propitious  moment.  The 
American  missionaries  concentrated  in  a  fortified  mis- 
sionary compound  a  couple  of  miles  from  us,  and  the 
last  people  to  remain   outside   were   hastily   sent   for, 


THE  DEBACLE  BEGINS  103 

given  twenty  minutes  in  which  to  pack  their  things,  and 
marched  in  as  quickly  as  possible  by  a  guard  of  Ameri- 
can marines.  There  were  seventy  white  men,  women 
and  children,  and  countless  herds  of  native  schoolgirls 
and  converts.  Their  reports  were  the  last  we  got.  Vast 
crowds  of  silent  people  had  watched  them  pass  through 
the  eastern  Tartar  city  to  our  Legation  lines  without 
comment  or  without  hostility.  Gloomily  the  Peking 
crowd  must  have  watched  this  strange  convoy 
curling  its  way  to  a  safer  place,  the  mission- 
aries armed  in  a  droll  fashion  with  Remingtons 
and  revolvers,  and  some  of  the  converts  carry- 
ing pikes  and  carving-knives  in  their  hands,  for  the 
Peking  crowd  and  Peking  itself  has  been,  and  is  being, 
terrorised  by  the  Boxers  and  the  Manchu  extremists, 
and  is  not  really  allied  to  them — of  that  we  all  are  now 

convinced.     But  C ,  who  was  so  nearly  massacred, 

came  in  too  with  the  American  missionaries.  He  man- 
aged somehow,  after  he  was  shot  in  a  deadly  place,  to 
half-run  and  half-crawl  until  he  was  picked  up  and  car- 
ried into  the  American  missionary  compound.  From 
what  I  heard,  he  knows  nothing  more  about  the  death 
of  the  German  Minister.  It  was  only  a  few  hours  ago, 
and  yet  it  already  seems  days ! 

All  the  non-combatants  were  now  rushed  into  the  Brit- 
ish Legation,  and  to  the  women  and  children  join  them- 
selves dozens  of  men,  whose  place  should  be  in  the  fight- 
ing-line, but  who  have  no  idea  of  being  there.  Lines  of 
carts  conveying  stores,  clothing,  trunks  and  miscella- 
neous belongings  were  soon  pouring  towards  the  British 
Legation,  and  long  before  nightfall  the  spacious  com- 
pounds were  so  crowded  with  impedimenta  and  masses 
of  human  beings  that  one  could  hardly  move  there.  It 
was  a  memorable  and  an  extraordinary  sight. 


104         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

The  few  Chinese  shops  that  had  been  until  now  carry- 
ing on  business  in  our  Legation  quarter  in  spite  of  the 
semi-siege  and  the  barricades  in  a  furtive  way,  were 
soon  quietly  putting  up  their  shutters — not  entirely,  but 
what  they  call  three-quarters  shut  after  the  custom  on 
their  New  Year  holidays,  when  they  are  not  supposed 
to  trade,  but  do  trade  all  the  same.  The  shop-boys, 
slipping  their  arms  into  their  long  coats  and  dusting  off 
their  trousers  and  shoes  after  the  Peking  manner  with 
their  long  sleeves,  made  one  feel  in  a  rather  laughable 
sort  of  way  that  finality  had  been  reached!  They  had 
that  curious  half-laugh  on  their  faces  which  signifies  an 
intense  nervousness  being  politely  concealed.  Up  to 
three  o'clock  these  complaisant  shopmen  were  still  sell- 
ing things  at  a  purely  nominal  price,  which  was  not  en- 
tered in  the  books,  but  quietly  pocketed  by  them  for 
their  own  benefit.  Having  completed  my  own  arrange- 
ments, I  began  idly  watching  their  actions,  they  were 
so  curious.  At  three  o'clock  sharp  the  last  shutters  went 
up,  the  last  shopman  pasted  a  diamond-shaped  Fu,  or 
Happiness,  of  red  paper  over  the  wooden  bars,  and  van- 
ished silently  and  mysteriously.  It  was  for  all  the  world 
once  again  exactly  like  the  telegraph-operator  in 
"Michael  Strogoff,"  when  the  Tartars  smash  in  the 
front  doors  of  his  office  and  seize  the  person  of  the  hero, 
while  the  clerk  coolly  takes  up  his  hat  and  disappears 
through  a  back  door.  These  Chinese  had  done  business 
in  the  very  same  way,  until  the  very  last  moment — the 
very  last. 

And  not  only  are  the  few  shopmen  slipping  away,  but 
also  numbers  of  others  within  our  lines  who  had  been 
half-imprisoned  during  the  past  week  by  our  barricades 
and  incessant  patrolling.     Men,  women,  and  children, 


THE  DEBACLE  BEGINS  105 

each  with  a  single  blue-cloth  bundle  tied  across  their 
backs  containing  a  few  belongings,  slip  away;  gliding, 
as  it  were,  rapidly  across  the  open  spaces  where  a  shot 
could  reach  them,  and  scuttling  down  mysterious  back 
alleys  and  holes  in  the  walls,  the  existence  of  which  has 
been  unknown  to  most  of  us.  This  time  the  rats  are 
leaving  the  sinking  ship  quietly  and  silently,  for  a  quiet 
word  passed  round  had  informed  every  one  of  what  is 
coming,  and  no  one  wishes  to  be  caught.  This  is  the  sort 
of  silent  play  I  love  to  watch. 

Just  before  this,  however,  down  beyond  the  Austrian 
Legation  came  a  flourish  of  hoarse-throated  trumpets — 
those  wonderful  Chinese  trumpets.  Blare,  blare,  in  a 
half-chorus  they  first  hang  on  a  high  note ;  then  suddenly 
tumbling  an  octave,  they  roar  a  bassoon-like  challenge  in 
unison  like  a  lot  of  enraged  bulls.  Nearer  and  nearer, 
as  if  challenging  us  with  these  hoarse  sounds,  came  a 
large  body  of  soldiery;  we  could  distinctly  see  the  bright 
cluster  of  banners  round  the  squadron  commander. 
Pushing  through  the  clouds  of  dust  which  floated  high 
above  them,  the  horses  and  their  riders  appeared  and 
skirted  the  edge  of  our  square.  We  noted  the  colour 
of  their  tunics  and  the  blackness  of  the  turbans.  Two 
horsemen  who  dismounted  for  some  reason,  swung 
themselves  rapidly  into  their  saddles,  carbine  in  hand, 
and  galloped  madly  to  rejoin  their  comrades  in  a  very 
significant  way.  For  a  moment  they  half  turned  and 
waved  their  Mannlichers  at  us,  showing  their  breast- 
circle  of  characters.  They  were  the  soldiers  of  savage 
Tung  Fu-hsiang,  and  were  going  west — that  is,  into  the 
Imperial  city.  The  manner  in  which  they  so  coolly 
rode  past  fifty  yards  away  must  have  frightened  some 
one,  for  when  I  passed  here  an  hour  later  the  Austrian 


106         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

Legation  and  its  street  defences  had  been  suddenly  aban- 
doned by  our  men.  We  had  surrendered,  without  strik- 
ing a  blow,  a  quarter  of  our  ground!  I  remember  that 
I  was  only  mildly  interested  at  this;  everything  was  so 
bouleverse  and  curious  that  a  little  more  could  not  mat- 
ter. It  was  like  in  a  dream.  Tramping  back,  the  Aus- 
trian sailors  crowded  into  the  French  Legation  and  all 
round  their  lines  and  threw  themselves  down.  One  man 
was  so  drunk  from  lack  of  sleep  that  he  tumbled  on  the 
ground  and  could  not  be  made  to  move  again.  Every- 
body kicked  him,  but  he  was  dead-finished  and  could  be 
counted  out.  This  was  beginning  our  warfare  cheer- 
fully. 

On  top  of  the  Austrians  a  lot  of  volunteers  came  in  at 
a  double,  very  angry,  and  cursing  the  Austrians  for  a 
retreat  which  was  only  discovered  by  them  by  chance. 
Like  so  many  units  in  war-time,  these  volunteers  had 
been  forgotten  along  a  line  of  positions  which  could 
have  been  held  for  days.  Nobody  could  give  any  ex- 
planation excepting  that  Captain  T ,  the  Austrian 

commander,  said  that  he  was  not  going  to  sacrifice  his 
men  and  risk  being  cut  off,  when  there  was  nobody  in 
command  over  the  whole  area.  T was  very  ex- 
cited, and  did  not  seem  to  realise  one  thing  of  immense 
importance — that  half  our  northeastern  defences  have 
been  surrendered  without  a  shot  being  fired. 

At  the  big  French  barricades  facing  north  an  angry 
altercation  soon  began  between  the  French  and  Austrian 
commanders.  The  French  line  of  barricades  was  but  the 
third  line  of  defence  here,  and  only  the  streets  had  been 
fortified,  not  the  houses;  but  by  the  Austrian  retreat  it 
had  become  the  first,  and  the  worn-out  French  sailors 
would  have  hastily  to  do  more  weary  fatigue-work  cart- 


THE  DEBACLE  BEGINS  107 

ing  more  materials  to  strengthen  this  contact  point.  I 
remember  I  began  to  get  interested  in  the  discussion, 
when  I  found  that  there  was  an  unfortified  alley  leading 
right  into  the  rear  of  this.  It  would  be  easy  at  night- 
time to  rush  the  whole  line. 

Meanwhile  nobody  knew  what  was  going  to  happen. 
All  the  Ministers,  their  wives  and  belongings,  and  the 
secretaries  and  nondescripts  had  disappeared  into  the 
British  Legation,  and  the  sailors  and  the  volunteers 
became  more  and  more  bitter  with  rage.  A  number  of 
young  Englishmen  belonging  to  the  Customs  volunteers 
began  telling  the  French  and  Austrian  sailors  that  we 
had  been  trahis,  in  order  to  make  them  swear  louder.  I 
know  that  it  was  becoming  funny,  because  it  was  so  ab- 
surd when  .  .  .  bang-ping,  bang-ping,  came  three  or 
four  scattered  shots  from  far  down  the  street  beyond  the 
Austrian  Legation.  It  was  just  where  Tung  Fu-hsiang's 
men  had  passed.  That  stopped  us  talking,  and  as  I  took 
a  wad  of  waste  out  of  the  end  of  my  rifle  I  looked  at  my 
watch — 3.49  exactly,  or  eleven  minutes  too  soon.  I  ran 
forward,  pushing  home  the  top  cartridge  on  my  clip, 

but  I  was  too  late.     "A  quatrecents  metres,"  L ,  the 

French  commander,  called,  and  then  a  volley  was  loosed 
off  down  that  long  dusty  street — our  first  volley  of  the 
siege. 

Our  barricades  were  full  of  men  here,  and  it  was  no 
use  trying  to  push  in.  I  postponed  my  own  shooting, 
for  after  a  brisk  fusillade  here,  urgent  summons  came 
from  other  quarters,  and  I  had  to  rush  away.  .  .  .  The 
siege  had  begun  in  earnest.  I  record  these  things  just 
as  they  seemed  to  happen.  We  are  so  tired,  my  account 
cannot  seem  very  sensible.     Yet  it  is  the  truth. 


PART  II -THE  SIEGE 


CHAOS 

2 1 st  June,   1900. 


I  passed  the  night  in  half  a  dozen  different  places, 
assimilating  all  there  was  to  assimilate;  gazing  and 
noting  the  thousand  things  there  were  to  be  seen  and 
heard,  and  sleeping  exactly  three  hours.  Few  people 
would  believe  the  extraordinary  condition  to  which 
twelve  hours  of  chaos  can  reduce  a  large  number  of 
civilised  people  who  have  been  forced  into  an  unnatural 
life.  It  is  indeed  extraordinary.  Half  the  Legations 
are  abandoned,  excepting  for  a  few  sailors;  others  are 
being  evacuated,  and  most  people  have  even  none  of  the 
necessities  of  life  with  them.  For  instance,  at  eight 
o'clock  I  discovered  that  I  had  had  no  breakfast,  and 
on  finding  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  get  any 
for  some  hours,  I  forthwith  became  so  ravenously 
hungry  that  I  determined  I  would  steal  some  if  neces- 
sary.    What  a  position  for  a  budding  diplomatist ! 

Fortunately  I  thought  of  the  Hotel  de  Pekin  before  I 

had  done  anything  startling,  and  soon  C ,  the  genial 

and  energetic  Swiss,  who  is  the  master  of  this  wonderful 
hostelry,  had  given  me  coffee.  He  told  me  then  to  go 
into  his  private  rooms,  ransack  the  place  and  take  what  I 
liked.    I  found  I  was  not  alone  in  his  private  apartments. 


CHAOS  109 

Baron  R ,  the  Russian  commandant,  had  just  come 

in  before  me,  and  had  fallen  asleep  from  sheer  fatigue 
as  he  was  in  the  act  of  eating  something.  He  looked  so 
ridiculous  lying  in  a  chair  with  his  mouth  wide  open  and 
his  sword  and  revolver  mixed  up  with  the  things  he  had 
been  eating,  that  I  began  laughing  loudly,  and,  aroused 
by  this  sound,  two  more  men  appeared  suddenly — Mar- 
quis P ,  the  cousin  of  the  Italian  charge,  and  K , 

the  Dutch  Minister.  What  they  were  doing  there  I  did 
not  inquire.  The  Dutch  Minister  was  in  a  frightful 
rage  at  everything  and  everybody,  and  began  talking  so 

loudly  that   R woke  up,   and  commenced  eating 

again  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world,  without 
saying  a  single  word.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished  he 
went  to  sleep  again.  He  was  plainly  a  man  of  some 
character;  the  whole  position  was  so  ridiculous  and  yet 
he  paid  no  attention. 

I  soon  got  tired  of  this,  as  plenty  of  other  people  now 
came  in,  all  calling  for  food,  and  I  was  really  so  weary 
from  lack  of  sleep  and  proper  rest  that  I  could  not 
remember  what  they  were  talking  about  two  seconds 
after  they  had  finished  speaking.  Most  of  the  men  were 
angry  at  the  "muddle,"  as  they  called  it,  and  said  it  was 
hopeless  going  on  this  way.  One  of  the  Austrian  mid- 
shipmen told  me  that  there  had  been  altogether  very 
little  firing,  and  not  more  than  a  few  dozen  Chinese 
skirmishers  engaged,  but  that  the  whole  northern  and 
eastern  fronts  of  our  square  were  so  imperfectly 
garrisoned  that  they  could  be  rushed  in  a  few  minutes. 
Everybody  agreed  with  him,  but  nobody  appeared 
to  know  who  was  in  supreme  command,  or 
who  was  responsible  for  a  distribution  of  our 
defending    forces,    which    would    total    at    least    six 


110         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

hundred  or  seven  hundred  men  if  every  able- 
bodied  man  was  forced  into  the  fighting-line.  For- 
tunately the  Chinese  Government  appears  to  be  hesitat- 
ing again ;  we  have  been  all  driven  into  our  square  and 
can  be  safely  left  there  for  the  time  being — that  seems 
to  be  the  point  of  view. 

I  now  became  anxious  about  a  trunk  containing  a  few 
valuables,  which  I  had  sent  into  the  British  Legation, 
and  I  determined  to  go  in  person  and  see  how  things 
were  looking  there.  What  confusion !  I  soon  learned 
that  it  had  been  very  gay  at  the  British  Legation  during 
the  night.  At  four  o'clock  of  the  previous  afternoon, 
when  the  first  shots  had  already  been  dropping  in  at  the 
northern  and  eastern  defences,  not  a  thing  had  been 
done  in  the  way  of  barricading  and  sandbagging — that 
everybody  admitted.  The  flood  of  people  coming  in 
from  the  other  Legations,  almost  weeping  and  wailing, 
had  driven  them  half  insane.  At  the  Main  Gate,  a 
majestic  structure  of  stone  and  brick,  a  few  sandbags 
had  actually  been  got  together,  as  if  suggesting  that 
later  on  something  might  be  done.  But  for  the  time 
being  this  Legation,  where  all  the  women  and  children 
have  rushed  for  safety,  is  quite  defenceless.  Yet 
it  has  long  been  an  understood  thing  that  it  was  to 
become  the  general  base.  It  was  not  surprising,  then, 
that  at  six  in  the  evening  yesterday  a  tragedy  had 
occurred  within  eyesight  of  everybody  at  the  Main  Gate. 
A  European,  who  afterwards  turned  out  to  be  Professor 
J ,  of  the  Imperial  University,  an  eccentric  of  pro- 
nounced type,  had  attempted  to  cross  the  north  bridge, 
which  connects  the  extreme  north  of  Prince  Su's  palace 
walls  with  a  road  passing  just  one  hundred  yards  from 
the  British  Legation  northern  wall,  and  perhaps  three 


CHAOS  111 

hundred  yards  from  the  Main  Gate  itself.  It  was  seen 
that  the  European  was  running,  onlookers  told  me,  and 
that  after  him  came  a  Chinese  brave  in  full  war-paint, 
with  his  rifle  at  the  trail.  Instead  of  charging  his  men 
down  the  street  to  save  this  wretched  man,  the  British 

officer,  Captain  W ,  ordered  the  Main  Gate  to  be 

closed,  and  everybody  to  go  inside  except  himself  and 
his  file  of  marines.  He  then  commanded  volley-firing, 
apparently  at  the  pink  walls  of  the  Imperial  city,  which 
form  a  background  to  the  bridge,  although  he  might  as 
well  have  ordered  musical  drill.  Meanwhile  the  un- 
fortunate J was  caught  half  way  across  the  stone 

bridge  by  some  other  Chinese  snipers,  who  had  been 
lying  concealed  there  all  the  time  behind  some  piles  of 
stones.  He  was  hit  several  times,  though  not  killed,  as 
several  people  swear  they  saw  him  crawling  down  into 
the  canal  bed  on  his  hands  and  knees.  Volley-firing  con- 
tinued at  the  Main  Gate,  and  the  aforesaid  British 
officer  cursed  himself  into  a  fever  of  rage  over  his  men. 

Even  when  J had  finally  disappeared,  no  steps  were 

taken  to  see  what  had  become  of  him ;  he  was  calmly 
reported  lost.  This  was  the  opening  of  the  ball  at  the 
British  Legation. 

No  sooner  was  it  dark  than  M ,  the  chief,  appeared 

on  the  scenes,  smoking  a  cigarette  reminiscent  of  his 
Egyptian  campaign,  and  clad  in  orthodox  evening  dress. 
This  completed  every  one's  anger,  but  the  end  was  not 
yet.  At  ten  in  the  evening  a  scare  developed  among  the 
women,  and  it  was  decided  to  begin  fortifying  some  of 
the  more  exposed  points.  Everybody  who  could  be 
found  was  turned  on  to  this  work,  but  in  the  dark  little 
progress  could  be  made  excepting  in  removing  all  possi- 
bility of  any  one  going  to  sleep. 


112         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

But  the  sublimely  ridiculous  was  reached  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  building  facing  the  canal,  an  incident  displaying 
even  more  than  anything  else  the  attitude  of  some  of  the 
personnel  of  our  missions  to  China.  Sleeping  peacefully 
in  his  nice  pyjamas  under  a  mosquito  net  was  found  a 
sleek  official  of  the  London  Board  of  Works,  who 
wanted  to  know  what  was  meant  by  waking  him  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  night.  Investigations  elsewhere  found 
other  members  of  this  Legation  asleep  in  their  beds; 
everybody  said  the  young  men  were  all  right,  but  those 
above  a  certain  age   .    .    .  ! 

The  night  thus  spent  itself  very  uneasily.  They  were 
only  learning  what  should  have  been  known  days  before. 

When  day  broke  in  the  British  Legation  things  had 
seemed  more  impossible  than  ever.  Orders  and  counter- 
orders  came  from  every  side ;  the  place  was  choked  with 
women,  missionaries,  puling  children,  and  whole  hosts 
of  lamb-faced  converts,  whose  presence  in  such  close 
proximity  was  intolerable.  Heaven  only  knew  how  the 
matter  would  end.  The  night  before  people  had  been 
only  too  glad  to  rush  frantically  to  a  place  of  safety; 
with  daylight  they  remembered  that  they  were  terribly 
uncomfortable — that  this  might  have  to  go  on  for  days 
or  for  weeks.  It  is  very  hard  to  die  uncomfortably.  I 
thought  then  that  things  would  never  be  shaken  into 
proper  shape. 

In  this  wise  has  our  siege  commenced;  with  all  the  men 
angry  and  discontented;  with  no  responsible  head;  with 
the  one  man  among  those  high-placed  dead;  with  hun- 
dreds of  converts  crowding  us  at  every  turn — in  a  word, 
with  everything  just  the  natural  outcome  of  the  vacilla- 
tion and  ignorance  displayed  during  the  past  weeks  by 
those  who  should  have  been  the  leaders.     Fortunately, 


CHAOS  113 

as  I  have  already  said,  so  far  there  has  been  no  fighting 
or  no  firing  worth  speaking  of.  Only  along  the  French 
and  Italian  barricades,  facing  east  and  north,  a  dropping 
fire  has  continued  since  yesterday,  and  one  Frenchman 
has  been  shot  through  the  head  and  one  Austrian 
wounded.  It  is  worth  while  noting,  now  that  I  think  of 
it,  that  the  French,  the  Italians,  the  Germans,  and,  of 

course,  the  Austrians,   have  accepted  Captain  T , 

the  cruiser  captain,  as  their  commander-in-chief,  and  that 
the  Japanese  have  signified  their  willingness  to  do  so, 
too,  as  soon  as  the  British  and  Americans  do  likewise. 
Thus  already  there  are  signs  that  a  pretty  storm  is  brew- 
ing over  this  question  of  a  responsible  commander;  and, 
of  course,  so  long  as  things  remain  as  they  are  at  present, 
there  can  be  no  question  of  an  adequate  defence.  Each 
detachment  is  acting  independently  and  swearing  at  all 
the  others,  excepting  the  French  and  Austrians,  for  the 
good  reason  that  as  the  Austrians  have  taken  refuge  in 
the  French  lines  they  must  remain  polite.  Half  the 
officers  are  also  at  loggerheads;  volunteers  have  been 
roaming  about  at  will  and  sniping  at  anything  they  have 
happened  to  see  moving  in  the  distance;  ammunition  is 
being  wasted;  there  are  great  gaps  in  our  defences,  which 
any  resolute  foe  could  rush  in  five  minutes  were  they  so 
inclined;  there  is  not  a  single  accurate  map  of  the  area 
we  have  to  defend ! 

All  this  I  discovered  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  and 
by  afternoon  I  had  nothing  better  to  do  than  go  over 
to  the  great  Su  wang-fu,  or  Prince  Su's  palace  grounds, 
now  filled  with  Chinese  refugees,  both  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  and  there  watch  the  Japanese  at  work.  The 
Japanese  Legation  is  squashed  in  between  Prince  Su's 
palace  grounds  and  buildings  and  the  French  Legation 


114         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

lines,  and,  consequently,  to  be  on  the  outer  rim  of  our 
defences  the  little  Japanese  have  been  shifted  north  and 
now  hold  the  northeast  side  of  our  quadrilateral.  Prince 
Su,  together  with  his  various  wives  and  concubines  and 
their  eunuchs,  has  days  ago  fled  inside  the  Imperial  city, 
abandoning  this  palace  with  its  valuables  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  first  comers;  and  thus  the  Japanese  sailor 
detachment,  reinforced  by  a  couple  of  dozen  Japanese 
and  other  volunteers,  has  made  itself  free  with  every- 
thing, and  is  holding  an  immense  line  of  high  walls, 
requiring  at  least  five  hundred  men  to  be  made  tolerably 
safe.     But  they  have  an  extraordinary  little  fellow  in 

command,  Colonel  S ,  the  military  attache.     He  is 

awkward  and  stiff-legged,  as  are  most  Japanese,  but  he 
is  very  much  in  earnest,  and  already  understands  exactly 
what  he  can  do  and  what  he  cannot.  After  a  search  of 
many  hours,  I  found  here  the  first  evidences  of  system. 
This  little  man,  working  quietly,  is  reducing  things  to 
order,  and  in  the  few  hours  which  have  gone  by  since 
the  dreadful  occurrences  of  yesterday  he  has  succeeded 
in  attending  to  the  thousand  small  details  which  de- 
manded his  attention.  He  is  organising  his  dependents 
into  a  little  self-contained  camp;  he  is  making  the  hordes 
of  converts  come  to  his  aid  and  strengthen  his  lines;  in 
fact,  he  is  doing  everything  that  he  should  do.  Already 
I  honour  this  little  man;  soon  I  feel  I  shall  be  his  slave. 
But  not  only  is  there  order  within  these  Japanese  lines; 
attempts  are  being  made  to  find  out  what  is  going  on 
beyond — that  is,  to  discover  what  is  being  done  in  this 
deserted  corner  of  the  city,  which  is  abandoned  to  the 
European.  Although  all  is  quiet  without,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible that  every  one  has  fled,  because  some  rifle-firing  is 
going  on.    .    .    .    When   I   arrived  the  Japanese  had 


CHAOS  in 

already  discovered  that  a  Chinese  camp  had  been  quietly 
established  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Half  an 
hour  afterwards  a  breathless  Japanese  sailor  brought  in 
a  report  that  snipers  had  been  seen  stealthily  approach- 
ing.    I  was  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  as  Colonel  S 

immediately  decided  on  a  reconnaissance  in  force;  any 
one  who  liked  could  go.     Would  I  go? 

We  slipped  out  under  command  of  the  colonel  himself 
and  worked  through  tortuous  lanes  down  towards  the 
abandoned  Customs  Inspectorate  and  the  Austrian  Lega- 
tion. We  reached  the  rear  of  the  Customs  compounds 
without  a  sound  being  heard  or  a  living  thing  seen.  All 
along  hundreds  of  yards  of  twisting  alleyways  the  native 
houses  stood  empty  and  silent,  abandoned  by  their  own- 
ers just  as  they  are.  Even  the  Peking  dog,  a  cur  of  great 
ferocity,  who  in  peaceful  times  abounds  everywhere  and 
is  the  terror  of  our  riding-parties,  had  fled,  as  if  driven 
away  by  the  fear  of  the  coming  storm.  In  the  distance, 
as  we  stealthily  moved,  we  could  hear  an  occasional 
rattle  of  musketry,  probably  directed  against  the  French 
Legation  and  the  Italian  barricade,  where  it  has  been 
going  on  for  twenty-four  hours;  but  so  isolated  is  one 
street  in  Peking  from  the  rest  by  the  high  walls  of  the 
numberless  compounds  and  the  thick  trees  which  inter- 
cept all  sounds  that  we  could  be  certain  of  nothing. 
Perhaps  the  firing  was  not  even  the  enemy  at  work, 
whoever  he  may  be;  it  might  be  our  men.  .    .    . 

But  directly  in  front  of  us  all  was  still,  and  just  as  we 
thought  of  stealing  on,  a  Japanese  whispered  "Hush," 
and  pointed  a  warning  finger.  We  flattened  ourselves 
against  houses  and  scurried  into  open  doors.  Suddenly 
it  was  getting  exciting.  Down  another  lane  then  came  a 
noisy  sound  of  feet,  incautiously  pattering  on  the  hard 


116         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

ground  to  the  accompaniment  of  some  raucous  talk.  It 
is  the  very  devil  in  this  network  of  lanes  and  blind  alleys 
which  twist  round  the  Legations,  and  no  force  could 
properly  patrol  them.  .    .    . 

Without  any  warning  two  men  came  round  the  corner, 
peering  everywhere  with  sharp  eyes  and  bobbing  up  and 
down.  Simultaneously  with  the  sob  of  surprise  they 
gave  our  rifles  crashed  off.  And  this  time,  owing  to  the 
short  range  and  the  Japanese  warning,  we  got  them  fair 
and  square,  and  both  of  them  rolled  over.  But  no,  one 
fellow  jumped  to  his  feet  again,  and  before  we  could 
step  him  was  down  another  lane  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 
We  promptly  gave  chase,  yelling  blue  murder  in  an 
incautious  manner,  which  might  have  brought  hundreds 
of  the  enemy  on  our  heels.  But  we  did  not  care.  Round 
a  corner,  as  we  followed  the  man  up,  a  high  wall  rose 
sheer,  but  nothing  daunted,  the  fellow  took  a  tremen- 
dous leap,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  lattice-work  on  a 
window,  climbed  to  a  roof.  Then  bang,  bang,  bang, 
seven  shots  went  at  him  rapidly,  one  after  another.  In 
spite  of  the  volley  the  man  still  crawled  upwards,  but 
as  he  reached  the  top  of  the  low  house  and  passed  his 
legs  over  he  gave  a  feeble  moan  and  then  .  .  . 
flopper-ti  flop,  floppcr-ti  flop,  he  crashed  down  the  other 
side  and  ended  with  a  dull  thud  on  the  ground.  On  the 
other  side  there  he  was  dead  as  a  door-nail  and  all 
covered  with  blood.  It  was  our  first  proper  work.  But 
he  was  not  a  soldier,  he  was  a  Boxer;  and  in  place  of  the 
former  incomplete  attire  of  red  sashes  and  strings,  this 
true  patriot  wore  a  long  red  tunic  edged  with  blue,  and 
had  his  head  tied  up  in  the  regulation  bonnet  rouge  of 
the  French  Revolution.  Round  his  waist  he  had  also 
girded  on  a  blue  cartridge-belt  of  cloth,  with  great  thick 


CHAOS  117 

Martini  bullets  jammed  into  the  thumb  holes.  This  we 
thought  very  curious  at  the  time,  as  the  Boxers  were  sup- 
posed to  laugh  at  firearms.  Elated  by  this  little  affair, 
we  pushed  on,  and  came  upon  other  men  working  round 
our  lines  in  small  bands,  and  exchanged  shots  with  them. 
All  were  Boxers  in  this  new  uniform;  but  although  we 
tried  to  entice  them  on  and  corner  them  in  houses,  they 
were  too  cunning  for  us,  and  broke  back  each  time.  In 
the  end  we  had  so  stirred  up  this  hornets'  nest  that  the 
scattered  firing  became  more  and  more  persistent,  and 
stern  orders  came  for  us  to  fall  back. 

We  came  in  feeling  elated,  but  Colonel  S was 

looking  serious,  for  he  had  discovered  that  the  extent  of 
Prince  Su's  outer  walls,  which  have  to  be  held  in  their 
entirety,  is  so  much  greater  than  was  expected,  and  every 
part  can  be  so  easily  attacked  from  the  outside,  that  the 
task  is  desperate.  There  are  less  than  fifty  men  in  all 
for  these  long  Japanese  lines,  and  if  we  take  more  from 
elsewhere  it  will  be  merely  creating  fresh  gaps.  .  .  . 
Decidedly  it  is  not  enticing.  The  whole  line  from  the 
north  right  round  to  the  south,  where  the  Japanese, 
French,  Austrians,  Italians  and  Germans  are  distributed, 
ending  on  the  Tartar  Wall  itself,  is  terribly  weak.  And 
as  I  began  to  understand  this,  an  hour  after  this  after- 
noon adventure  I  became  quite  gloomy  at  the  outlook. 

Everything,  indeed,  was  upside  down.  Matters  in  the 
British  Legation  were  not  improving,  and  the  fighting 
air  which  exists  elsewhere  is  not  to  be  found  here.  Men, 
women  and  children;  ponies,  mules  and  packing-cases; 
sandbags  and  Ministers  Plenipotentiary — are  still  all  en- 
gaged in  attempting  to  sort  themselves  out  and  keep 
distinct  from  one  another.  Already  the  British  Legation 
has  surrendered  itself,  not  to  the  enemy,  but  to  com- 


118         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

mittees.  There  are  general  committees,  food  com- 
mittees, fortifications  committees,  and  what  other  com- 
mittees I  do  not  know,  except  that  American  missionaries, 
who  appear  at  least  to  have  more  energy  than  any  one 
else,  are  practically  ruling  them.  This  is  all  very  well 
in  its  way,  but  it  is  curious  to  see  that  dozens  of  able- 
bodied  men,  armed  with  rifles,  are  hiding  away  in 
corners  so  that  they  shall  not  be  drafted  away  to  the 
outer  defences.  Everywhere  a  contemptible  spirit  is 
being  displayed,  because  a  feeling  prevails  that  there  are 
no  responsible  chiefs  in  whom  absolute  trust  can  be 
placed.  A  pleasant  mess  in  all  truth.  It  is  now 
every  one  for  himself  and  nobody  looking  after  the 
others.   .   .   . 

Some  of  the  people,  however,  have  begun  dividing 
themselves  up,  and  now  are  billeted,  nationality  by 
nationality,   in  separate  quarters.      But  many  persons 

seem  lost  and  distraught.    H ,  the  great  director  of 

Chinese  affairs,  was  sitting  on  an  old  mattress  looking 

quite  paralysed;  P ,  his  counterpart  in  the  Russian 

bank,  was  striding  about  excitedly  and  muttering  to  him- 
self.  The  Belgian  Legation  has  disappeared  entirely; 
whether  they  have  run  away  or  been  lost  in  the  con- 
fusion I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell.  What  a  posi- 
tion, what  a  condition!  Already  it  is  a  great  feat  to 
be  on  speaking  terms  with  a  dozen  people,  and  if  we 
could  only  instil  some  of  the  savageness  we  all  feel 
towards  one  another  into  our  defence,  it  would  become 
so  vigorous  and  unconquerable  that  not  all  the  legions 
of  the  Boxer  Empire,  massed  in  serried  ranks,  could 
break  in  on  us.  But  this  very  defence,  which  should 
be  so  determined,  is  the  most  half-hearted  thing  imagi- 
nable.    It  has  no  real  leader,  and  merely  resolves  itself 


CHAOS  119 

into  the  old  policy  of  each  Legation  holding  its  own  in 
an  irregular  half-circle  round  the  British  Legation, 
which  itself  is  a  mass  of  disorder.  I  feel  certain  that  if 
we  have  a  night  attack  at  once  the  Chinese  will  break 
in  with  the  greatest  ease,  and  then  .  .  .  Tant  pis! 
The  last  thing   I  saw   in   the  British   Legation   was 

M ,   the   great  correspondent,    sitting   on   a   great 

stack  of  his  books,  looking  wearily  around  him.  His 
former  energy  and  resolution  have  all  departed,  sapped 
by  the  spectacle  of  extraordinary  incompetence  around 
him.  Of  what  good  has  all  that  rescuing  of  native 
Christians  been — all  that  energy  in  dragging  them 
more  dead  than  alive  into  our  lines  in  the  face  of 
Ministerial  opposition,  when  we  cannot  even  protect 
ourselves?  But  just  when  I  began  this  moralising,  the 
hundred  and  fifty  mules  and  ponies  that  have  been  col- 
lected together  all  broke  loose,  frightened  by  some  stray 
shots,  and  went  careering  madly  around  us.  It  was 
pitch  dark  and  most  gloomy  before  they  had  been  all 
tied  up  again,  and  although  firing  became  heavier  and 
heavier  as  Chinese  snipers  found  they  could  approach 
our  outer  lines  in  safety,  I  finally  sought  out  a  spot  for 
myself  and  fell  asleep  with  my  rifle  on  my  chest — curs- 
ing everybody.  It  is  a  sign  of  the  times — my  nerves 
are  becoming  Ministerial ! 


II 

THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN 

23d  June,    1900. 


Yesterday  the  inevitable  happened,  and  only  Heaven 
and  the  foolishness  of  the  attacking  forces,  who  are 
only  playing  with  us,  and  do  not  seem  to  have  settled 
down  to  their  work,  saved  us  from  complete  annihila- 
tion.    Without  a  word  of  explanation,  Captain  T , 

the  Austrian  commander,  suddenly  ordered  all  the 
French,  Italians  and  Austrians  to  fall  back  on  the  Brit- 
ish Legation,  sending  word  meanwhile  to  the  Japanese 
and  the  Germans  to  follow  his  example.  This  meant 
that  the  whole  vast  semicircle  to  the  northeast  and  the 
southeast  was  being  thrown  up.  The  result  was  that 
for  ten  minutes  armed  men  of  all  nationalities  poured 
into  the  British  Legation,  until  every  rifle-bearing  effec- 
tive was  standing  there,  all  jabbering  in  a  mass,  and  not 
knowing  what  it  was  all  about.  The  Americans,  who 
had  established  themselves  on  the  Tartar  Wall  as  the 
main  point  in  the  western  defence,  guessed  they  were 
not  going  to  be  left  there  cut  off  from  salvation  by  a 
failure  to  remember  their  existence;  and  presently  they, 
too,  ran  in,  openly  swearing  at  their  officers.  These 
American  marines  have  never  quite  liked  this  idea  of 
being  planted  on  the  Tartar  Wall;  for  with  that  smart- 
ness for  which  their  race  is  distinguished,  they  see  it  is 
quite  on  the  cards  that  they  are  forgotten  up  there  if  a 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN     121 

rush  occurs  while  the  others  are  sitting  safe  in  the  main 
base.  And  the  Americans  are  not  going  to  be  forgotten 
— we  soon  found  that  out.  They  are  the  people  of  the 
future. 

Depict  to  yourself,  if  you  can,  the  blind  fear  of  all  the 
Plenipotentiaries,  of  all  the  missionaries  and  their  lamb- 
faced  converts,  on  seeing  the  gallant  defenders  of  the 
outer  lines  rushing  in  on  them  at  a  fast  trot,  and  then 
falling  into  line  and  standing  very  much  at  ease  awaiting 
the  next  move.  I  may  be  brutal,  but  I  relished  that 
scene  a  little;  it  was  a  lesson  that  was  sadly  needed.  It 
was  the  British  Minister  who  remained  the  most  calm; 
perhaps  he  immediately  understood  that  the  game  was 
now  in  his  hands.  But  the  other  Ministers,  I  wish  you 
could  have  but  seen  them !  They  crowded  round  his 
British  Excellency  in  an  adoring  and  trembling  ring,  and 
without  subterfuge  offered  him  the  supreme  command; 
that  was  exactly  what  we  had  been  expecting.  Under- 
neath their  manner  you  could  easily  see  they  meant  to. 
say  that  they  knew  it  was  the  British  Legation  in  which 
they  had  taken  refuge;  that  they  had  had  enough  of  all 
these  alarums  and  excursions;  and  that  so  long  as  they 
were  left  in  peace  they  did  not  care  about  the  rest. 
What  mean  little  people  we  are  in  this  world !  The 
French,  the  Russian,  the  Italian  and  the  Japanese 
Ministers  were  the  first  to  act  thus,  and  as  they  repre- 
sented a  majority  of  the  detachments,  the  others  who 
had  Legation  Guards  had  pretty  well  to  follow  suit, 
whether  they  liked  it  or  not,  and  some  did  not  like  it, 

as  I  shall  show  hereafter.     M had  been  hinting 

very  plainly  that  he  had  been  in  a  kilted  regiment,  and 
that  the  British  Legation  was  the  hub  of  the  defence — 
the  asylum  for  all;  and  so  with  a  satisfied  smile,  he  was 


122         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

pleased  to  accept  the  proffered  appointment.  Yet  it  was 
one  only  in  name.  For  just  as  he  was  writing  out  his 
first  ordre  du  jour  the  various  Plenipotentiaries  showed 
their  appreciation  of  the  office  they  had  conferred  on 
him  by  ordering,  each  one  of  them  separately,  their 
respective  detachments  to  return  to  their  respective 
Legations  so  hurriedly  abandoned.  So  the  sailors  and 
the  marines,  and  the  fighting  volunteers  who  bear  them 
company,  bundled  back  to  the  outer  lines  and  barricades 
again,  finding  all  just  as  it  had  been  before,  except  that 
the  Italian  Legation  was  in  flames  and  the  Italian  barri- 
cades therefore  useless.  The  snipers  had  found  that 
they  could  suddenly  work  in  peace,  and  had  thrown 
blazing  torches.  Four  Legations  are  now  destroyed 
and  abandoned,  for  the  Belgian,  the  Austrian  and  the 
Dutch  have  all  gone  up  in  flames  at  different  times  dur- 
ing the  last  days.  Seven  Legations  remain  and  ten 
Ministers. 

The  defence  is  thus  getting  into  reasonable  limits,  and 
so  long  as  our  attacks  are  confined  to  what  they  have 
been  up  till  now,  we  may  really  pull  through.  Incen- 
diary fires  round  the  outer  lines,  lighted  by  means  of 
torches  stuck  on  long  poles,  a  heavy  rifle-fire  poured  into 
the  most  exposed  barricades  by  an  unseen  enemy,  and 
very  occasionally  a  faint-hearted  rush  forward,  which  a 
fusillade  on  our  part  turns  into  a  rout — these  have  so 
far  been  the  dangers  with  which  we  have  had  to  contend. 
But  the  very  worst  feature  of  the  defence  is  that  no 
one  trusts  the  neighbouring  detachment  sufficiently  to  be- 
lieve that  it  will  stand  firm  under  all  circumstances  and 
not  abandon  its  ground;  consequently  this  fear  that  a 
sudden  breakdown  along  some  barricades  will  allow  of 
an  inrush  of  Chinese  troops  and  Boxers  makes  men  fight 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  123 

all  the  time  with  their  eyes  over  their  shoulders,  which 
is  the  very  worst  way  of  fighting  I  can  possibly  imagine. 
And  another  hardly  less  important  point  is  that  the  bur- 
den is  not  evenly  apportioned,  and  that  the  men  know  it. 
For  instance,  the  British  Legation,  which  is  as  yet  not 
in  the  slightest  exposed,  is  full  of  able-bodied  men  doing 
nothing — whereas  on  the  outer  lines  of  the  other  Lega- 
tions many  men  are  so  dead  with  sleep  that  they  can 
hardly  sit  awake  two  hours.  It  can  easily  be  seen  from 
the  rude  sketches  I  have  made  and  re-made,  what  I 
mean.  I  have  been  over  every  inch  on  my  own  legs; 
there  can  be  no  mistake. 

From  the  main  sketch  you  will  see  that  the  holding  of 
the  Tartar  Wall,  together  with  the  American  and  Rus- 
sian Legations,  protects  the  British  Legation  effectively 
from  the  south  and  partially  from  the  west;  that  the 
Franco-German-Austrian  lines,  and  the  Su  wang-fu, 
with  the  Japanese,  mask  the  east;  and  that  of  the  other 
two  sides  on  which  the  British  Legation  walls  and  out- 
buildings really  constitute  the  actual  defence  line  directly 
in  touch  with  the  enemy,  the  Imperial  Carriage  Park,  a 
vast  grass-grown  area  with  but  half  a  dozen  yellow- 
roofed  buildings  in  it,  makes  the  western  approaches 
very  difficult  to  attack,  since  they  are  easily  swept  by  our 
rifle-fire;  and  that  the  northern  side  is  so  filled  with 
buildings  belonging  to  the  Chinese  Government  (which 
it  now  seems  cannot  be  destroyed) ,  that  I  do  not  appre- 
hend attacks  here.  The  only  real  dangers  to  the  British 
Legation  in  any  case  are  these  two  corners  to  the  north 
and  the  southwest.   .   .   . 

Passing  over  to  the  Su  wang-fu,  you  realise  the  extraor- 
dinary difference  between  the  danger  points  along  the 
British  Legation  northern  and  western  barricades,  and 


124         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

little  Colonel  S 's  command.    Here  you  are  in  direct 

touch  with  the  enemy,  for  the  snipers  of  forty-eight 
hours  ago  have  been  strongly  reinforced,  doubtless  at- 
tracted by  the  possibility  of  loot. 

Soldiers  and  all  sorts  of  banditti  must  have  joined 
hands  with  the  Boxers,  for  it  is  clear  that  every  hour  is 
mysteriously  adding  more  and  more  men  round  our 
lines.  You  can  hear  the  men  talking,  and  you  can  see 
bricks  moving  but  fifty  or  sixty  yards  from  where  you 
are  squinting  through  a  loophole  as  fresh  barricades, 
that  are  gradually  surrounding  us  in  a  vise  which  may 
yet  crush  us  to  death,  are  silently  built.  The  forty  or 
fifty  Japanese,  and  the  few  volunteers  who  are  with 
them,  have  now  been  reinforced  by  all  the  Italians,  who 
have  been  given  a  big  strip  of  outer  wall  and  a  fortified 
hillock  in  Prince  Su's  ornamental  garden — a  hillock 
which  commands  a  great  stretch  of  territory,  as  territory 
goes  in  our  wall-split  area.  For  here  in  the  Su  wang-fu 
the  number  of  walls  and  buildings  is  terrible,  and  Heaven 
only  knows  how  seventy  or  eighty  men  can  even  make 
a  pretence  of  holding  such  positions.  First  there  is  the 
great  outer  wall  eighteen  feet  high  and  three  feet  thick. 
Then  from  this  outer  wall,  other  thick  walls  run  in- 
wards at  right  angles,  splitting  up  the  place  into  little 
squares,  in  which  as  likely  as  not  there  will  be  a  group  of 
houses  with  great  dragon-adorned  roofs.  Further 
towards  the  centre  of  the  Fu  is  Prince  Su's  own  palace 
and  his  retainers'  quarters;  to  the  south  of  this  is  an 
ornamental  garden  full  of  trees,  a  vast  and  mournful 
enclosure,  standing  in  which  the  crack  of  outpost  rifles 
can  only  be  distantly  heard.  Moving  across  to  the 
southern  side — that  is,  the  side  near  the  French  Lega- 
tion and  the  protected  Legation  Street — the  Christian 


V 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  125 

refugees  are  found  gathered  here  in  huge  droves.  In 
one  building  there  are  alone  four  hundred  native  school- 
girls, rows  upon  rows  of  them  that  never  seem  to  come 
to  an  end,  sitting  on  the  ground  in  their  sober  blue  coats 
and  trousers,  peacefully  combing  each  other's  hair,  or 
working  on  sandbags  with  the  imperturbability  of  the 
Easterner  who  is  placid  under  death.  Farther  on,  again, 
you  come  on  families,  sometimes  three  generations  hud- 
dling together  on  a  six-foot  straw  mat.  A  mother  try- 
ing to  feed  a  child  from  her  half-dry  breasts  tells  you 
quietly  that  it  is  no  use,  since  the  meagre  fare  she  is 
already  getting  does  not  make  sustenance  enough  for 
her,  let  alone  her  child.  Yet  everything  possible  is  being 
done  to  feed  them.  All  the  able-bodied  converts  have 
long  ago  been  drafted  off  for  barricade-building  and 
loophole-making  in  the  endless  walls,  and  here  the  curi- 
ous Japanese  passion  for  order  and  detail  is  shown  on 
the  coats  of  the  older  men.  The  boss-shifts,  each  respon- 
sible for  so  many  men  who  have  to  accomplish  a  given 
amount  of  work  in  a  specified  time,  have  big  white  labels 
with  characters  written  squarely  across  them,  telling 
every  one  clearly  what  they  are.  At  a  little  table  near 
by  writers,  who  have  been  carefully  sorted  out  from 
this  incongruous  gathering,  are  provided  with  brush  and 
ink,  and  have  been  set  to  work  making  up  reports  and 
lists  of  all  the  people.  These  are  handed  to  a  Japanese 
Secretary  of  Legation,  who  has  been  evolved  into  an 
engineer-in-chief  and  overseer  of  native  labour,  and  thus 
at  every  hour  of  the  day  the  distribution  of  the  barri- 
caders  is  known.  Amid  these  crowds  of  native  refugees, 
who  number  at  least  a  couple  of  thousand  peo- 
ple, two  or  three  Japanese  occasionally  wander  to  see 
that  all's  well,  and  give  the  babies  little  things  they  have 


126         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

looted  from  Prince  Su's  palace  to  play  with.  Content 
to  be  where  they  are  and  assured  that  the  European  will 
not  abandon  them,  these  natives  exhibit  in  a  strange 
manner  that  inexplicable  thing — Faith.  Poor  people — 
they  little  know!     Is  it  always  thus  with  faith? 

So  the  Su  wang-fu,  which  is  but  the  northwestern  part 
of  our  lines,  is  now  a  city  in  itself,  inhabited  by  the  most 
unlikely  people  in  the  world.  Three  days  have  sufficed 
to  give  it  an  entity  of  its  own.  The  nature  of  the  de- 
fence and  the  fighting  value  of  the  Japanese  as  compared 
to  the  Italians,  are  fitly  illustrated  by  the  distribution  of 

forces   which  little   Colonel  S has  already  made. 

The  Italians  hold  perhaps  a  hundred  feet  of  the  outer 
wall  and  one  hillock  of  some  importance.  The  Japanese 
have  at  least  a  thousand  feet  of  loopholed  and  unloop- 
holed  wall,  and  are  quite  ready  to  take  another  thousand 
if  some  one  would  be  kind  enough  to  give  it  to  them.  In 
posts  of  three  and  four  men,  distant  sometimes  hundreds 
of  feet  apart,  the  little  Japanese  takes  his  two  hours  on 
and  his  four  hours  off  night  and  day  without  a  murmur 
or  without  ever  a  break.  Only  at  one  place  are  there 
more  than  three  or  four  little  men  together.  At  the 
eastern  end  of  the  Fu  there  is  a  big  post  grouped  round 
the  fortified  Main  Gate,  where  there  are  actually  eight 
or  nine  men  under  the  command  of  a  Japanese  naval 
lieutenant. 

But  the  genius  who  has  organised  all  this  system,  the 
little  Japanese  colonel,  does  not  waste  time  walking 
around.  He  is  at  work  at  an  eternal  map  decorated  with 
green,  blue  and  red  spots,  which  show  the  distribution  of 
his  forces  and  their  respective  strength  and  fighting 
value.  Somehow  I  could  not  tear  myself  away  from 
this  quarter.    It  was  so  orderly.   .  .  . 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  127 

Behind  the  commanding  hillock  in  the  Italian  centre  I 
found  Lieutenant  P ,  the  Italian  naval  officer,  din- 
ing off  bread  and  Bologna  sausage,  which  he  was  strip- 
ping after  the  Italian  fashion,  inelegantly  using  his 
knife  both  to  punctuate  his  sentences  and  to  assist  the 
passage  of  his  food.  "Look  out,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as 
I  had  appeared,  "it  is  very  warm  here;  the  bullets  are 
flying  low."  The  leaves  of  the  trees  under  which  he 
was  sitting  were  indeed  falling  thickly,  cut  down  by 
snipers'  fire.  But  still  I  wish  he  would  walk  down  to  a 
Japanese  post  not  more  than  five  hundred  feet  away  and 
watch  a  little  Jap  and  a  half  dozen  Chinese  snipers  at 
work  against  each  other.  That  is  where  I  had  just 
been — convoying  some  supplies.  The  little  Japanese  had 
ostentatiously  placed  his  sailor  cap  just  in  front  of 
an  empty  loophole  twenty  feet  from  where  he  actually 
squatted,  and  where  he  had  probably  been  a  few  seconds 
before  I  had  arrived.  The  snipers  saw  this  and  promptly 
fired,  bang,  bang,  bang,  a  long  line  of  shots  following 
one  after  the  other  in  quick  succession.  Hum!  they 
must  be  reloading  now,  said  the  little  Jap  plainly  by  the 
expression  on  his  face;  and  jumping  straight  on  top  of 
the  wall  in  front  of  him  he  hastily  snapped  at  one  of  his 
enemies.  Then  down  he  came  again,  but  hardly  quick 
enough,  for  bricks  were  dislodged  all  around  him,  and 
once  he  received  one  on  the  head.  The  little  man 
rubbed  his  cranium  ruefully,  shook  himself  like  a  dog 
to  get  rid  of  the  sting,  and  then  with  a  little  more  cau- 
tion began  his  strange  performance  again.  This  is  what 
is  going  on  all  round  the  Japanese  posts — men  bobbing 
up  and  firing  rapidly,  in  some  cases  only  fifty  feet  away 
from  one  another.  The  Italians  are  lying  comfortably 
on  their  stomachs  completely  out  of  sight,  and  wildly 


128  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

volleying  far  too  often.  Already  their  ammunition  is 
running  low,  although  there  is  hardly  any  need  really 
to  reply  at  all  to  our  enemies.  They  have  crept  closer, 
it  is  true,  and  without  surprising  any  one,  or  even  causing 
notice,  their  numbers  of  riflemen  have  grown  from  hour 
to  hour.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  there  must  be  many 
hundreds  of  men  lying  all  round  us  and  firing  just  as 
they  please.  But  they  are  hidden  behind  walls  and 
ruined  houses;  they  belong  to  our  curious  state;  they  are 
the  essential  things  after  all.  How  foolish  one  be- 
comes ! 
Threading  your  way  due  south  you  come  suddenly  on  a 
French  picquet,  four  Frenchmen  and  two  Austrians  be- 
hind a  heavy  barricade.  This  precious  Su  wang-fu  is* 
merely  linked  to  the  French  Legation  by  a  system  of 
such  posts  audaciously  feeble  when  you  consider  the  duty 
they  have  to  undertake — to  keep  up  a  connection  hun- 
dreds of  yards  long  which  any  moment  may  be  broken 
in  a  dozen  places  by  a  determined  rush  of  the  enemy. 
This  first  French  post  is  the  extreme  left  of  the  French 
defence,  and  it  is  only  after  some  long  alleyways  that 
you  come  on  the  centre  itself.  Here  on  roofs,  squatting 
behind  loopholes,  and  even  on  tree-tops,  though  these 
are  very  dangerous,  French  and  Austrian  sailors  ex- 
change shots  with  the  enemy.  Half  a  dozen  men  have 
been  already  hit  here,  but  in  spite  of  the  strictest  orders 
men  are  fearlessly  exposing  themselves  and  reaping  the 
inevitable  result.  It  is  only  at  the  beginning  that  one  is 
so  unwise.  One  giant  Austrian  had  spread  himself 
across  the  top  of  a  roof  near  which  I  passed,  with  two 
sandbags  to  protect  his  head,  and  looked  in  his  blue- 
black  sailor  clothes  like  an  enormous  fly  squashed  flat 
up  there  by  the  anger  of  the  gods.     Now  leaning  this 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN      129 

way,  now  that,  he  flashed  off  a  Mannlicher  there 
towards  the  Italian  Legation,  where  only  one  hundred 
hours  ago  no  one  ever  dreamed  that  Chinese  despera- 
does would  have  made  our  normal  life  such  a  distant 
memory. 

As  I  came  up  the  French  commander  allowed  the 
remark  to  drop  that  the  position  did  not  please  him — 
ca  ne  me  dtt  rlen  is  the  exact  expression  he  used — and 
that  his  defence  was  too  thin  to  be  capable  of  resisting  a 
single  determined  rush.  The  abandoned  Italian  barri- 
cade, with  the  Italian  Legation  still  smouldering  behind 
it,  is  indeed  now  filling  up  with  more  and  more  Chinese 
sharpshooters,  who  continually  pour  in  a  hot  fire  only 
fifty  feet  from  the  French  lines.  Occasionally  a  reckless 
Chinese  brave  dashes  across  from  the  hiding-place  he 
has  selected  to  cover  his  advance  into  the  nest  of  Chinese 
houses  which  are  only  separated  by  a  twenty-foot  lane 
from  the  French  Legation  wall,  and  coolly  applies  the 
torch.  Then  puff;  first  there  is  a  small  cloud  of 
smoke,  then  a  volley  of  crackling  wood,  and  finally 
flames  leaping  skyward.  You  can  see  this  here  at  all 
hours.  Aided  by  fire  and  rifle-shots  the  Chinese  are 
pushing  nearer  and  nearer  the  French.  It  is  clear  that 
they  will  have  a  worse  time  than  the  Japanese  if  the 
situation  develops  as  quietly  but  as  rapidly  as  it  has  been 
doing.   ... 

Across  Legation  Street  connection  with  the  Germans  is 
now  had  by  means  of  more  loopholed  barricades;  for 
the  Germans  link  hands  with  the  French  and  Austrians, 
just  as  they  on  their  part  link  up  with  the  little  colonel 
of  the  Su  wang-fu.  But  the  Germans  are  not  in  force  at 
their  own  Legation;  they  are  merely  using  it  as  their 
base,  for  it  is  only  by  means  of  the  Peking  Club,  whose 


130         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

grounds  run  sheer  back,  that  they  touch  the  priceless 
Tartar  Wall.  Spread-eagled  along  a  very  indifferently 
barricaded  line,  the  marines  of  the  German  See  Bataillon 
now  lie  in  an  angry  frame  of  mind  dangerous  for  every 
one.  They  have  felt  hurt  ever  since  the  loss  of  their 
Minister,  and  the  men  are  recklessly  desperate.  On  the 
Tartar  Wall  itself  they  are  exposed  to  a  dusting  fire 
from  the  great  Ha-ta  Towers  that  loom  up  half  a  mile 
from  them,  and  men  are  already  falling.  A  three-inch 
gun  commenced  firing  in  the  morning — nobody  but  the 
Wall  posts  noticed  it  at  first — and  now  overhead  whiz 
with  that  odd  shaking  of  the  air  so  hard  to  explain  these 
light  but  dangerous  projectiles.  Happily  it  is  rather 
a  modern  gun,  and  the  Chinese,  unaccustomed  to  the 
flat  trajectory,  are  firing  far  too  high.  I  noticed  as  I  crept 
along  that  the  shells  fell  screaming  into  the  Imperial 
city  a  mile  or  two  away.  If  they  only  get  the  range  1 
Far  along  the  Tartar  Wall,  towards  the  Ch'ien  Men 
Gate,  yellow  dots  could  be  indistinctly  seen.  These  were 
the  Americans,  in  their  slouch  hats  and  khaki  suits,  lying 
on  the  ground  and  facing  the  enemy's  fire  in  the  other 
direction.  Held  in  check  by  the  Germans  and  Ameri- 
cans in  two  feeble  posts  of  a  few  men  each,  the  Chinese 
commanders  cannot  get  their  men  along  the  Tartar 
Wall,  and  command  the  Legations  that  crouch  below. 
Perhaps  that  is  why  playing  is  only  going  on  and  no 
assaults.  Now  sobbing,  now  gurgling,  the  bullets  pass 
thickly  enough  overhead  here,  sometimes  in  dense  flights 
like  angry  wild-fowl,  sometimes  speeding  in  quick  succes- 
sion after  one  another  as  if  they  were  all  late  and  were 
frantically  endeavouring  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  .  .  . 
I  am  certain  now  that  this  fusillade  is  increasing 
from  hour  to  hour — almost   from  minute  to   minute. 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  131 

I  do  not  think  playing  will  soon  be  the  right  expres- 
sion. .    .    . 

To  get  to  the  Russo-American  side  of  the  defence, 
there  is  no  help  for  it,  you  have  to  make  a  long  voyage; 
to  climb  down  off  the  Wall,  pass  through  the  German 
Legation,  cross  Legation  Street  into  the  French  lines, 
and  work  your  way  slowly  through  acres  of  compounds 
and  deserted  houses.  Yesterday  I  would  have  made 
a  dash,  but  after  watching  the  four  hundred  yards  of 
wall  between  the  German  and  American  posts,  you  are 
easily  convinced  that  even  to  sneak  along,  hugging  the 
protecting  parapet,  would  be  an  undertaking  of  utter 
foolishness.  For  as  I  stood  looking,  the  rank  under- 
growth, which  Chinese  sloth  has  allowed  in  past  years 
to  grow  up  along  the  top  of  the  Tartar  Wall,  was  appar- 
ently alive,  now  swinging  this  way,  now  swaying  that, 
and  sometimes  even  jumping  into  the  air  in  pieces  as  if 
galvanised  into  madness  by  the  rush  of  bullets.  The 
number  of  riflemen  is  growing  fast.  So  passing  into  the 
French  Legation,  great  holes  let  you  into  the  next  com- 
pound, which  happens  to  be  that  of  my  friend  C , 

the  Peking  hotel-keeper.  Here  there  is  a  new  sight; 
everybody  is  at  work  quite  peacefully,  milling  wheat, 
washing  rice,  slaughtering  animals,  barricading  win- 
dows— doing  everything,  in  fact,  at  once.  This  fellow 
C is  an  original,  who  knows  how  to  make  his  Chi- 
nese slave  with  the  greatest  industry  and  sets  them  an 
admirable  example  himself.  A  rather  desperate  lot  are 
these  servants,  although  most  of  them  are  professed 
Roman  Catholics,  and  can  gabble  French  learned  years 

ago  at  Monseigneur  F 's.     And  that  reminds  me: 

no  one  has  thought  of  the  gallant  bishop  during  the 
past   few  days.     That  shows  how  indifferent  the  ab- 


132         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

normal  makes  one;  the  French  Legation  has  attempted 
once  to  get  into  communication  with  the  distant  cathe- 
dral and  failed.  Since  then  nobody  I  have  seen  has  even 
mentioned  the  great  Catholic  mission. 

These  lonely  and  deserted  compounds,  merely  con- 
nected with  our  bases  and  the  outlying  works  by  great 
holes  rudely  picked  through  their  massive  walls,  are 
curiously  mournful  and  passing  strange.  The  houses 
are  absolutely  empty  and  silent;  everything  has  been  left 
exactly  as  it  stood,  when  the  occupants  rushed  off  fever- 
ishly to  the  British  Legation,  where  they  now  sit  in  idle- 
ness relying  for  protection  on  the  thin  outer  lines  I  have 
described.  In  these  abandoned  Legations  and  residences 
you  can  scarcely  hear  more  than  a  distant  rattle  of  mus- 
ketry, and  when  you  think  how  great  the  distances  are 
it  is  very  easy  to  understand  why  the  panic  occurred  yes- 
terday morning  among  the  men  on  the  outer  lines,  at 
which  those  smugly  safe  in  the  British  Legation  were  so 
indignant.  Occupying  widely  separated  positions,  im- 
perfectly linked  together,  and  with  no  responsible  com- 
mander to  watch  them  with  a  keen  and  discerning  eye, 
the  defenders  of  the  eastern,  southern  and  western  lines 
could  well  suppose  that  the  incompetence  of  the  Minis- 
ters and  the  disorders  which  have  reigned  during  the 
past  few  weeks  would  culminate  in  their  being  aban- 
doned without  a  word  of  warning  being  sent  them.  It 
is  so  silly  to  say  that  because  men  are  soldiers  and  sailors 
they  must  be  prepared  to  do  their  duty  everywhere. 
There  must  have  been  times  when  even  the  Roman 
soldier  at  Pompeii  felt  like  revolting. 

Pushing  on,  I  crossed  the  southern  bridge  of  stone,  in 
order  to  reach  the  Russo-American  lines  and  the  rear  of 
the  British  Legation,  and  marvelled  more  and  more  at 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  133 

our  good  luck.  As  yet  nothing  has  been  done  to  protect 
this  very  exposed  connecting  link;  and  so  bending  low 
you  have  once  more  to  sneak  rapidly  along,  using  the 
stone  parapet  as  a  traverse  to  save  you  from  the  enfilad- 
ing fire,  which  is  coming  from  heavens  know  where. 
The  bullets  were  singing  in  all  manner  of  tones  here  as 
I  ran,  the  iron  ones  of  old-fashioned  make  muttering 
a  deep  bass;  the  nickel-headed  modern  devils  spitting 
the  thinnest  kind  of  treble  as  they  hastened  along.  It 
was  almost  amusing  to  gauge  their  speed.  Some  had  al- 
ready travelled  so  far  that  with  a  flop  which  raises  a 
little  cloud  of  dust  they  dropped  exhausted  at  your  feet. 
The  ricochets  are  in  the  majority,  for  with  the  vast 
number  of  intervening  walls  and  trees  and  the  sloping 
Chinese  roofs  which  pen  us  in  on  all  sides,  the  nickel, 
iron  and  lead  of  Mannlicher  and  Mauser  rifles  and 
Tower  muskets  are  soon  converted  into  mere  discordant 
humming-birds,  whose  greatest  inconvenience  is  their 
sound.  Never  have  I  heard  such  a  humming  as  these 
spent  ricochets  make. 

Fifty  feet  past  this  southern  stone  bridge  you  meet  the 
first  Russian  barricade,  with  half  a  dozen  tired  Russian 
sailors  sleeping  on  the  ground  and  a  sleepy-eyed  look-out 
man  leaning  on  his  rifle.  This  barricade  faces  in  both 
directions  in  the  shape  of  a  V,  and  under  its  protection 
this  part  of  Legation  Street  is  supposed  to  be  safe  from 
a  rush,  if  the  men  stand  firm.  In  the  Russian  and 
American  Legations  it  is  everywhere  the  same  story — 
barricades  and  loopholed  houses  and  outworks,  now 
mostly  crowned  with  sandbags,  succeed  one  another  with 
a  regularity  which  becomes  monotonous.  But  on  this 
western  side  the  bullets  are  few  and  far  between  as  yet, 
and  sometimes  for  a  few  seconds  a  curious  quiet  reigns, 


134  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

only  broken  by  the  distant  and  muffled  hum  of  sound  and 
crackling  towards  the  east.  Decidedly  up  to  date  it  is 
the  Japanese  and  the  French  and  their  companions  who 
have  all  the  honours  in  the  matter  of  cannonading  and 
fusillading,  and  the  Germans  are  soon  going  to  be  not 
far  behind  them.  Right  up  on  the  Tartar  Wall  I  found 
the  American  marines  once  again  lying  mutinously  silent. 
They,  too,  do  not  like  it,  frankly  and  unreservedly;  and 
as  I  lay  up  there  and  told  them  what  I  had  seen  else- 
where, an  old  fellow  with  a  beard  said  it  was  S , 

the  first  secretary,  who  had  insisted  on  their  stopping, 
and  had  almost  had  a  fight  with  every  one  about  it.  The 
old  marine  told  me  that  the  other  men  would  be  damned 
— he  used  the  word  in  a  wistful  sort  of  way  which  had 
nothing  profane  about  it — if  they  stopped  much  longer. 
Ihey  wanted  other  people  to  share  the  honours;  they 
did  not  see  why  every  man  should  not  have  a  turn  at  the 
same  duty.  ...  I  was  glad  these  Americans  were  mak- 
ing this  fuss,  for  everything  is  just  as  unbalanced  as  it 
was  at  the  beginning,  and  there  is  no  sort  of  confidence 
anywhere.  After  three  days  of  siege  the  only  clear 
thing  I  can  see  is  that  there  are  a  lot  of  bad  tempers, 
and  that  the  few  good  men  are  saving  the  situation  by 
acting  independently  to  the  best  of  their  ability  and  are 
not  trying  to  understand  anything  else. 

Much  depressed,  I  at  last  slipped  down  through  the 
back  of  the  Russian  Legation  into  the  British  Legation. 
Yes !  the  others  are  right,  for  on  reaching  the  English 
grounds  you  feel  unconsciously  that  you  have  passed 
from  the  fighting  line  to  the  hospital  and  commissariat 
base.  Here,  mixed  impartially  with  the  women,  crowds 
of  vigorous  men,  belonging  to  the  junior  ranks  of  the 
Legations'  staffs  and  to  numbers  of  other  institutions, 


THE  RETREAT  AND  THE  RETURN  135 

are  skulking,  or  getting  themselves  placed  on  commit- 
tees so  as  to  escape  duty.  I  suppose  you  could  beat  up  a 
hundred,  or  even  a  hundred  and  fifty,  rifle-bearing 
effectives  in  an  hour.  Many  of  the  younger  men  were 
furious,  and  said  they  were  quite  willing  to  do  anything, 
but  that  everybody  should  be  turned  out.  ...  In  the 
afternoon  some  of  them  fell  in  with  my  idea — volun- 
teering under  independent  command  on  the  outer  lines 
— and  now  the  Japanese,  the  French  and  the  Germans 
have  got  more  men.  But  what  I  wish  to  show  you  in 
this  rambling  account  is  the  unbalanced  condition.  Ex- 
cept in  two  or  three  places  we  can  be  rushed  in  ten 
minutes. 


Ill 

FIRES  AND  FOOD 

24th  June,   1900. 


I  am  convinced  that  not  only  does  everything  come 
to  him  who  knows  how  to  wait,  but  that  sooner  or  later 
everybody  meets  with  their  deserts. 

The  British  Legation,  allowed  to  sink  into  a  somewhat 
somnolent  condition  owing  to  its  immunity  from  direct 
attack,  has  been  now  rudely  awakened.  Fires  commenc- 
ing in  earnest  yesterday,  after  a  few  half-hearted 
attempts  made  previously,  have  been  raging  in  half  a 
dozen  different  places  in  this  huge  compound;  and  one 
incendiary,  creeping  in  with  the  stealthiness  of  a  cat, 
threw  his  torches  so  skilfully  that  for  at  least  on  hour  the 
fate  of  the  Ministerial  residences  hung  in  the  balance, 
and  Ministerial  fears  assumed  alarming  proportions. 
Again  I  was  satisfied;  everybody  should  sooner  or  later 
meet  with  their  deserts. 

I  have  already  said  how  the  British  Legation  is  situ- 
ated. Protected  on  the  east  and  south  entirely  by  the 
other  Legations  and  linked  defences,  it  can  run  no  risk 
from  these  quarters  until  the  defenders  of  these  lines 
are  beaten  back  by  superior  weight  of  numbers.  Par- 
tially protected  on  the  west,  owing  to  the  fact  that  an 
immense  grass-grown  park  renders  approach  from  this 
quarter  without  carefully  entrenching  and  barricading 
simple  suicide,  there  remain  but  two  points  of  meagre 


FIRES   AND    FOOD  137 

dimensions  at  which  the  Chinese  attack,  can  be  success- 
fully developed  without  much  preliminary  prepara- 
tion; the  narrow  northern  end  and  a  southwestern  point 
formed  by  a  regular  rabbit-warren  of  Chinese  houses 
that  push  right  up  to  the  Legation  walls.  It  is  precisely 
at  these  two  points  that  the  Chinese,  with  their  peculiar 
methods  of  attack,  directed  their  best  efforts. 

Beginning  in  earnest  at  the  northern  end,  after  some 
inconsiderable  efforts  on  the  southwestern  corner,  they 
set  fire  to  the  sacro-sanct  Hanlin  Yuan,  which  is  at  once 
the  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  the  Heidelberg  and  the  Sor- 
bonne  of  the  eighteen  provinces  of  China  rolled  into  one, 
and  is  revered  above  all  other  earthly  things  by  the 
Chinese  scholar.  In  the  spacious  halls  of  the  Hanlin 
Academy,  which  back  against  the  flanking  wall  of  the 
British  Legation,  are  gathered  in  mighty  piles  the  liter- 
ature and  labours  of  the  premier  scholars  of  the  Celestial 
Empire.  Here  complete  editions  of  Gargantuan  com- 
pass; vast  cyclopaedia  copied  by  hand  and  running  into 
thousands  of  volumes;  essays  dating  from  the  time  of 
dynasties  now  almost  forgotten ;  woodblocks  black  with 
age  crowded  the  endless  unvarnished  shelves.  In  an 
empire  where  scholarship  has  attained  an  untrammelled 
pedantry  never  dreamed  of  in  the  remote  West,  in  a 
country  where  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  classics  is 
respected  by  beggar  and  prince  to  such  an  extent  that 
to  attempt  to  convey  an  idea  would  cause  laughter  in 
Europe,  all  of  us  thought — even  the  pessimists — that 
it  could  never  happen  that  this  holy  of  holies  would  be 
desecrated  by  fire.     Listen  to  what  happened. 

To  the  sound  of  a  heavy  rifle-fire,  designed  to  frustrate 
all  efforts  at  extinguishing  the  dread  fire-demon,  the 
flaming  torch  was  applied  by  Chinese  soldiery  to  half  a 


138  INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

dozen  different  places,  and  almost  before  anybody  knew 
it,  the  holy  of  holies  was  lustily  ablaze.  As  the  flames 
shot  skywards,  advertising  the  danger  to  the  most  pur- 
blind, everybody  at  last  became  energetic  and  sank  their 
feuds.  British  marines  and  volunteers  were  formed  up 
and  independent  commands  rushed  over  from  the  other 
lines ;  a  hole  was  smashed  through  a  wall,  and  the  mixed 
force  poured  raggedly  into  the  enclosures  beyond. 
They  had  to  clamber  over  obstacles,  through  tightly 
jammed  doors,  under  falling  beams,  occasionally  halt- 
ing to  volley  heavily  until  they  had  cleared  all  the 
ground  around  the  Hanlin,  and  found  perhaps  half  a 
ton  of  empty  brass  cartridge  cases  left  by  the  enemy, 
who  had  discreetly  flown.  From  a  safe  distance  snipers, 
hidden  from  view  and  untraceable,  kept  on  firing  stead- 
ily; but  they  were  careful  not  to  advance. 

Meanwhile  the  flames  were  spreading  rapidly,  the  cen- 
tury-old beams  and  rafters  crackling  with  a  most  alarm- 
ing fierceness  which  threatened  to  engulf  the  adjacent 
buildings  of  the  Legation.  What  huge  flames  they 
were !  The  priceless  literature  was  also  catching  fire, 
so  the  dragon-adorned  pools  and  wells  in  the  peace- 
ful Hanlin  courtyards  were  soon  choked  with  the  tens 
of  thousands  of  books  that  were  heaved  in  by  many 
billing  hands.  At  all  costs  this  fire  must  be  checked. 
Dozens  of  men  from  the  British  Legation,  hastily 
whipped  into  action  by  sharp  words,  were  now  pushed 
into  the  burning  Hanlin  College,  abandoning  their  tran- 
quil occupation  of  committee  meetings  and  commissariat 
work,  which  had  been  engaging  their  attention  since 
the  first  shots  had  been  fired  on  the  20th,  and  thus  rein- 
forced the  marines  and  the  volunteers  soon  made  short 
work  of  twenty  centuries  of  literature.     Beautiful  silk- 


FIRES   AND    FOOD  139 

covered  volumes,  illumined  by  hand  and  written  by  mas- 
ters of  the  Chinese  brush,  were  pitched  unceremoniously 
here  and  there  by  the  thousand  with  utter  disregard. 
Sometimes  a  sinologue,  of  whom  there  are  plenty  in 
the  Legations,  unable  to  restrain  himself  at  the  sight  of 
these  literary  riches  which  in  any  other  times  would  be 
utterly  beyond  his  reach,  would  select  an  armful  of  vol- 
umes and  attempt  to  fight  his  way  back  through  the 
flames  to  where  he  might  deposit  his  burden  in  safety; 
but  soon  the  way  was  barred  by  marines  with  stern  or- 
ders to  stop  such  literary  looting.  Some  of  these  books 
were  worth  their  weight  in  gold.  A  few  managed  to  get 
through  with  their  spoils,  and  it  is  possible  that  missing 
copies  of  China's  literature  may  be  some  day  resurrected 
in  strange  lands. 

With  such  curious  scenes  proceeding  these  fires  were 
checked  in  one  direction  only  to  break  out  in  another. 
For  later  on,  sneaking  in  under  the  cover  of  trees  and 
the  many  massive  buildings  which  pushed  up  so  close, 
Chinese  marauders  finding  that  they  could  escape,  threw 
torch  after  torch  soaked  in  petroleum  on  the  neighbour- 
ing roofs  and  rafters.  In  some  cases  they  forced  our 
posts  to  seek  cover  by  firing  on  them  very  heavily,  and 
then  with  a  sudden  dash  they  could  accomplish  their 
deadly  work  at  ease.  At  one  time,  thanks  to  this  policy, 
the  outbuildings  of  the  British  Legation  actually  caught 
fire,  and  the  flames,  urged  on  by  a  sharp  north  wind, 
lolled  out  their  tongues  longingly  towards  the  main 
buildings.  Lines  of  men,  women,  and  children  were 
hastily  formed  to  our  wells  and  hundreds  of  utensils  of 
the  most  incongruous  character  were  brought  into  play. 
I  came  back  to  find  ladies  of  the  Legations  handing  even 
pots  de  chambre  full  of  water  to  the  next  person  in  the 


140         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

long  chain  which  had  been  formed;  and  among  all  these 
people  who  were  at  length  willing  to  work  because  of 
the  imminent  danger  of  their  being  smoked  out,  I  found 
long-lost  faces,  including  that  of  my  own  chief.  Where 
they  had  all  sprung  from  I  could  not  make  out.  But  to 
see  Madame  So-and-so,  a  Ministerial  wife,  handing 
these  delectable  utensils,  and  forced  to  labour  hard,  was 
worth  a  good  many  privations.  There  are  so  many 
elements  of  the  tragic-absurd  now  to  be  seen. 

That  work  on  the  British  Legation  lines  confined  me 
for  some  time  to  this  area,  and  determined  to  profit  by 

it,  I  sought  out  Viscount  T ,  who  loves  delicacies, 

and  offered  to  exchange  champagne  for  a  few  tins  of 
preserves.  We  have  mules,  we  have  ponies,  and  we 
have  even  donkeys,  it  is  true,  and  a  great  mass  of  grain 
and  rice  which  will  last  for  weeks.  But  it  is  dry  and 
sorrowful  food,  and  I  long  for  a  few  delicacies.  To-day 
my  midday  tiffin  consisted  of  a  rude  curry  made  of  pony 
meat;  and  in  the  evening,  because  I  was  busy  and  had  no 
time  to  search  out  other  things,  I  ate  once  again  of  pony 
— this  time  cold !  I  will  frankly  confess  that  I  was  not 
enchanted,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  Monopole,  of 
which  there  are  great  stores  in  the  hotel  and  the  club — 
a  thousand  cases  in  all,  I  believe — I  should  have  col- 
lapsed. For  as  Monsieur  la  Fontaine  has  informed 
us,  even  the  most  willing  of  stomachs  has  certain  rights, 
and  there  are  times  when  a  good  deal  of  zeal  is  neces- 
sary. It  is  true  we  have  now  a  narcotic  to  feed  on 
which  supports  us  at  all  times  almost  without  the  aid 
of  anything  else — the  never-ending  roll  of  rifle-fire  now 
blazing  forth  with  grim  violence  and  sending  a  storm 
of  bullets  overhead,  now  muttering  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously with  merely  a  falling  leaf  or  a  snipped  branch 


FIRES  AND    FOOD  141 

to  show  that  it  is  directed  at  our  devoted  heads.  You 
can  live  on  that  for  many  hours,  but  it  is  a  bad  thing 
to  feed  on,  of  course,  for  it  must  leave  after-effects  more 

hard  to  overcome  than  those  of  opium.    Little  d'A , 

of  the  French  Legation,  swears  he  never  feels  hungry 
at  all  so  long  as  the  firing  continues.  .   .   . 

To  perform  this  work  of  feeding  so  many  mouths, 
there  are  committees — committees  far  too  big,  since 
every  one  is  anxious  to  join  their  safe  ranks — committees 
which,  although  they  number  men  of  all  nationalities, 
are  simply  standing  examples,  I  opine,  of  the  organising 
capacity  of  the  Yankee  and  his  masterfulness  over  other 
people.  For  it  is  the  Yankee  missionary  who  has  in- 
vaded and  taken  charge  of  the  British  Legation;  it  is 
the  Yankee  missionary  who  is  doing  all  the  work  there 
and  getting  all  the  credit.  Beginning  with  the  fortifica- 
tions committee,  there  is  an  extraordinary  man  named 

G ,  who  is  doing  everything — absolutely  everything. 

I  believe  there  are  actually  other  members  of  this  com- 
mittee— at  least,  there  are  some  people  who  assist — but 
G is  the  man  of  the  hour,  and  will  brook  no  inter- 
ference. Already  the  British  Legation,  which  at  the 
commencement  of  the  siege  was  utterly  undefended  by 
any  entrenchments  or  sandbags,  is  rapidly  being  hustled 
into  order  by  the  masterful  hand  of  this  missionary. 
Coolies  are  evolved  from  the  converts  of  all  classes,  who, 
although  they  protest  that  they  are  unaccustomed  to 
manual  work,  are  merely  given  shovels  and  picks,  sand- 
bags and  bricks,  and  resolutely  told  to  commence  and 
learn.  Already  the  discontented  in  the  outer  lines  are 
sending  for  him  and  asking  him  to  do  this  and  that, 
and  the  hard-worked  man  always  finds  time  for  every- 
thing.   It  is  a  wonder. 


142         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

And  behind  this  one  man  fortifications  committee  there 
are  many  other  committees  now.  There  is  a  general 
committee  which  no  one  has  yet  fathomed;  a  fuel  com- 
mittee; a  sanitary  committee;  nothing  but  committees, 
all  noisily  talking  and  quite  safe  in  the  British  Legation. 
Out  of  the  noise  and  chatter  the  American  missionary 
emerges,  sometimes  odorous  and  unpleasant  to  look 
upon,  but  whose  excuse  for  not  shouldering  a  rifle  and 
volunteering  for  the  front  is  written  on  his  tired  face. 
It  is  the  self-same  Yankee  missionary  who  is  grinding 
the  wheat  and  seeing  that  it  is  not  stolen ;  it  is  the  Ameri- 
can missionary  who  is  surveying  the  butcher  at  work 
and  seeing  that  not  even  the  hoofs  are  wasted.  And 
I  am  sad  to  confess  that  it  is  he  who  is  feeding  those 
thousands  of  Roman  Catholics  in  the  Su  wang-fu,  while 
the  French  and  Italian  priests  and  fathers,  divorced 
from  the  dull  routine  of  their  ordinary  life,  sit  help- 
lessly with  their  hands  folded,  willingly  abandoning 
their  charges  to  these  more  energetic  Anglo-Saxons. 
This  Protestantism  is  not  my  religion,  but  for  masculine 
energy  there  is  none  other  like  it.  I  would  not  have  you 
think  by  this  and  my  constant  irritation  that  there  are  no 
Englishmen  doing  well;  it  is  merely  that  the  ponderous 
atmosphere  of  the  British  Legation  is  such  that  very  few 
men  who  live  habitually  there  can  shake  themselves  free 
from  it  even  in  such  times  as  these.  I  know  that  half  of 
them  are  much  upset  at  the  role  they  are  being  forced 
to  play,  but  who  can  help  them? 

We  are  progressing  more  quietly  now  that  the  big  fires 
are  out;  but  still  there  is  scant  reason  for  any  congratula- 
tions.    S ,  for  instance,  is  quite  forgotten,  I  assure 

you,  for  I  mentioned  his  name  to  P ,  the  French 

Minister,  only  an  hour  ago,  and  the  only  reply  he  made 


FIRES   AND    FOOD  143 

was  to  spread  out  his  hands  in  front  of  him  and  give 
vent  to  an  immense  sigh.  Then  he  muttered  as  he  went 
away,  "II  a  disparn  completement — entierement;  c'est 
la  fin."  .   .  . 

All  relief  is  now  felt  to  be  out  of  the  question.  Men 
are  also  beginning  to  fall  with  regularity,  and  are  car- 
ried in  blood-stained,  as  evidence  that  this  is  really  a 
serious  business.  The  British  Chancery  is  now  the 
hospital;  despatch  tables  have  been  washed  and  covered 
with  surgical  cloth;  cases  are  dropping  in  (seventeen  up 
to  date,  I  hear),  and  doctors  are  busy.  Already  in  the 
night  smothered  cries  burst  from  the  walls  of  these 
torture-rooms,  and  make  one  conscious  that  it  may  be 
one's  turn  next.  I  have  always  felt  that  it  is  all  right 
up  in  the  firing  line,  but  it  is  that  dreadful  afterwards 
on  the  operating-table.  .  .  .  But  nurses  and  doctors 
are  doing  valiantly.  There  is  a  German  army  doctor 
who  knows  his  business  very  well,  they  say;  and  his  repu- 
tation has  already  spread  so  far  among  the  men  of  our 
all-nation  sailors  and  marines  that  they  all  ask  for  him. 
I  have  heard  that  request  in  four  languages  already. 

To  me  it  seems  that  by  incontestable  laws  each  actor  is 
taking  his  proper  place,  and  that  each  nationality  is 
pushing  out  its  best  to  the  proper  perspective.  Ah!  a 
siege  is  evidently  the  testing-room  of  the  gods.  If  we 
could  only  in  ordinary  life  apply  the  great  siege  test, 
what  mistakes  would  be  avoided,  what  reputations 
would  be  saved  from  being  shattered !  Because  no  weak 
man  would  ever  be  given  advancement. 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN 

25th  June,  1900. 


On  all  sides  our  position  has  become  less  secure,  less 
enviable,  and  the  enemy  more  menacing,  more  daring 
and  more  intent  in  breaking  in  on  us.  The  few  dropping 
shots  which  opened  the  ball  on  the  20th  have  now  duly 
blossomed  into  a  rich  harvest  of  bullets  that  sometimes 
continues  for  hours  without  intermission  or  break.  The 
Japanese,  unable  to  hold  their  huge  line,  consisting  of 
Prince  Su's  outer  wall,  have  already  been  forced  to  give 
way  at  several  points,  but  in  doing  so  they  have  each 
time  managed  to  bite  hard  at  the  enemy's  attacking  head. 
The  day  before  yesterday  the  little  Japanese  colonel  de- 
cided he  would  have  to  give  up  a  block  of  courts  on  the 
northeast — some  of  those  courts  I  have  already  de- 
scribed, which,  hemmed  in  by  walls  almost  as  high  as 
the  outer  monster,  itself  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  high 
and  three  feet  thick,  form  veritable  death-traps  if  you 
can  entice  any  one  inside  and  hammer  them  to  pieces  by 
loophole  fire.  This  is  precisely  the  policy  adopted  by 
Colonel  S . 

The  battalion  of  the  Peking  Field  Force  which  faces 
the  northern  front  had  been  industriously  pushing  for- 
ward massive  barricades  until  they  almost  touched 
Prince  Su's  outer  wall.  Secure  behind  these  sharp- 
shooter fortifications  a  distressing  fire  was  concentrated 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN  145 

on  the  half  a  dozen  fortified  Japanese  posts  that  lined 
the  outer  wall.  Here  on  high  stagings,  crudely  made  of 
timber  and  bamboo  poles  and  protected  by  thick  wedges 
of  sandbags,  Japanese  sailors  and  some  miscellaneous 
volunteers,  grouped  in  posts  of  four  and  five  men,  lay 
hour  after  hour  unable  to  show  a  finger  or  move  a  hand. 
Hundreds  of  Chinese  rifles  at  the  closest  possible  range 
poured  in  a  never-ending  fire  on  these  facile  targets,  and 
the  sandbagged  positions,  literally  eaten  away  by  old- 
fashioned  iron  bullets  in  company  with  the  most  modern 
nickel-headed  variety,  crumbled  down  to  practically 
nothing.  Lying  on  your  back  at  these  advanced  posts 
and  looking  at  the  sloping  roofs  of  Prince  Su's  orna- 
mental pavilions  a  few  hundred  feet  within  our  lines  was 
a  droll  sight.  The  Chinese  riflemen,  being  on  a  slightly 
lower  level  and  forced  to  fire  upwards  at  the  Japanese 
positions,  caused  many  of  their  bullets  to  skim  the  sand- 
bagged crest  and  strike  the  line  of  roofs  behind.  Many, 
I  say;  I  should  have  said  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands, for  the  roofs  seemed  alive  and  palpitating  with 
strange  feelings;  and  extraordinary  as  it  may  sound,  big 
holes  were  soon  eaten  into  the  heavily  tiled  roofs  by  this 
simple  rifle  fusillade.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Chinese  hoped 
to  destroy  us  and  our  defences  by  this  novel  method. 
But  there  was  a  more  ominous  sign  than  this.  A  Japan- 
ese sailor  perched  high  up  aloft  on  a  roof  five  hundred 
feet  inside  these  advanced  positions  and  armed  with  a 
telescope,  had  seen  two  guns  being  dragged  forward.  In 
a  few  hours  at  the  most,  even  allowing  for  Chinese  sloth 
and  indifference  as  to  time,  the  guns  would  be  in  position, 
and  then  the  outer  wall  would  be  demolished,  and  pos- 
sibly a  disordered  retirement  would  be  the  result.  So 
the  little  Japanese  colonel  took  the  bull  by  the  horns. 


146         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

Setting  all  the  coolies  he  could  muster  from  among  the 
converts,  he  quickly  formed  a  second  line  of  defence  by 
loopholing  and  sandbagging  all  the  chess-board  squares 
that  flank  the  northern  wall.  When  night  came  the 
advanced  positions  were  quietly  abandoned,  and  as  soon 
as  the  Chinese  scouts,  who  always  creep  forward  at 
daybreak,  discovered  that  our  men  had  flown,  their 
leaders  ordered  a  charge.  A  confused  mass  rushed  for- 
ward, penetrated  one  of  the  courtyards,  and  finding  it 
apparently  deserted,  incautiously  pushed  into  the  next 
square.  Before  they  could  fly,  a  murderous  fire  caught 
them  on  three  sides  and  wiped  out  several  dozens  of 
them,  the  rifles  and  ammunition  being  taken  by  our  men 
and  the  corpses  thrown  outside.  This  has  apparently 
had  a  chilling  effect  on  the  policy  of  open  charges  in  this 
quarter,  and  now  the  Chinese  commanders  are  advanc- 
ing their  lines  by  means  of  ingenious  parallels  and  zig- 
zag barricades,  which  will  take  some  time  to  construct. 

Meanwhile,  the  Japanese  main-gate  fort,  at  the  ex- 
treme Japanese  east,  with  its  outlying  barricades,  is 
being  slowly  reached  for  by  the  same  means.  Two  or 
three  times  the  French,  who  make  connection  with  the 
Japanese  lines  a  hundred  feet  to  the  south,  have  had 
to  send  as  many  men  as  they  could  spare  to  hold  back 
a  sudden  rush.  Each  time  the  threatened  Chinese 
charge  has  not  come  off,  and  the  incipient  attack  has 
fizzled  out  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  diminishing 
fusillade. 

The  commanding;  Italian  knoll  on  the  northwest  cor- 
ner  of  the  Su  wang-fu  remains  firm,  but  somehow  no  one 
has  very  much  confidence  in  the  Italians,  and  secondary 
lines  are  being  formed  behind  them,  towards  which  the 
Italians  look  with  longing  eyes.     And  yet  next  to  the 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN  147 

British  Legation  posts  the  Italians  are  having  the  easiest 

time  of  all.     Lieutenant  P ,  their  commander,  is  a 

brave  fellow;  but  he  is  brave  because  he  is  educated. 
The  uneducated  Italian,  unlike  the  uneducated  French- 
man, has  little  stomach  for  fighting,  and  it  is  easy  to 
understand  in  the  light  of  our  present  experiences  why 
the  Austrians  so  long  dominated  Northern  Italy,  and 
why  unlucky  Baratieri  and  his  men  were  seized  with 
panic  and  overwhelmed  at  Adowa. 

Opposite  the  French  and  German  Legations,  Chinese 
activity  is  not  so  intense  as  it  has  been  heretofore. 
Everything  in  this  quarter  for  thousands  of  yards  is 
practically  flat  with  the  ground,  for  incendiaries  have 
destroyed  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  houses,  and  the 
Chinese  commanders  are  favouring  low-lying  barricades, 
which  are  hard  to  pick  out  from  the  enormous  mass  of 
partially  burned  ruins  which  encumber  the  ground.  Just 
as  in  South  Africa  we  were  reading  only  the  other  day, 
before  this  plight  overtook  us,  that  the  hardest  thing 
to  see  is  a  live  Boer  on  the  battlefield,  so  here  it  is  the 
merest  chance  to  make  out  the  soldiery  that  is  attacking 
us.  Sometimes  dozens  of  men  scuttle  across  from  posi- 
tion to  position,  and  for  a  moment  a  vision  of  dark, 
sunburned  faces  and  brightly  coloured  uniforms  waves 
in  front  of  us;  but  in  the  main,  so  well  has  the  enemy 
learned  the  art  of  taking  cover,  and  of  utilising  every 
fold  in  the  ground,  that  many  have  not  even  seen  a 
Boxer  or  a  soldier  or  know  what  they  look  like,  although 
their  fire  has  been  so  assiduously  pelting  us.  But  some 
sharp-eyed  men  of  the  Legations  have  learned  two 
things — that  the  Manchu  Banners  and  Tung  Fu-hsiang's 

Kansu  soldiery  now  divide  the  honour  of  the  attack. 
Tung  Fu-hsiang  fortunately  has  mostly  cavalry,  and  a 


148         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

strong  force  of  his  dismounted  men  armed  with  Mann- 
licher  carbines  are  on  the  northeast  of  the  Japanese  posi- 
tion, for  two  have  been  shot  and  dragged  into  our  lines. 
These  cavalrymen  are  not  much  to  be  feared. 

Farther  to  the  south  the  German  position  has  become 
exceedingly  curious.    While  from  the  American  marines 
on  the  Tartar  Wall  round  in  a  vast  sweep  on  to  the 
French  Legation,  each  hour  sees  more  defences  go  up, 
the  Germans  have  to  content  themselves  with  what  prac- 
tically amounts  to  fighting  in  the  open.    There  has  been 
no  time  to  give  them  enough  coolies,  and  so  they  have 
only  lookout  men,  with  the  main  body  entrenched  in  the 
centre  of  their  position.     But  yesterday  they  surprised 
some  Boxers,  who  had  daringly  pushed  their  way  into 
a  Chinese  house  a  few  yards  from  one  outwork,  and  who 
were  about  to  set  fire  to  it,  preparatory  to  calling  for- 
ward their  regular  troops.    The  Germans  charged  with 
a  tremendous  rush,  killed  every  one  of  the  marauders, 
and  flung  the  dead  bodies  far  out  so  that  the  enemy 
might  see  the  reward  for  daring.     Being  certain  that 
the  Chinese  commanders  would  attempt  to  revenge  this 
blow,  what  driblets  of  men  could  be  spared  have  been 
lent  to  make  the  German  chain  more  continuous.     It  is 
almost  impossible  now  to  follow  the  ebb  and  flow  of  rein- 
forcements from  one  point  to  another;  but  it  may  be 
roughly  said  that  the  southeastern,   eastern,   northern 
and  northwestern  part  of  our  square — that  is,  the  Ger- 
mans, French,  Austrians,  Japanese  and  Italians — feed 
one  another  with  men  whenever  the  rifle  fire  in  any  given 
direction  along  their  lines  and  the  flitting  movements 
of  the  enemy  make  post  commanders  suppose  a  mass 
attack  is  coming;  and  that  the  British  Legation  and 
the  western  Russo-American  front,  together  with  the 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN  149 

American  posts  on  the  Tartar  Wall,  work  together.  It 
is,  of  course,  self-evident  from  what  I  have  written  that 
the  first,  or  Continental  and  Japanese  lines,  are  having 
by  far  the  worst  time.  For,  apart  from  the  American 
posts  on  the  Tartar  Wall,  no  outposts  in  the  second 
section  are  as  yet  in  direct  touch  with  the  enemy.  The 
strain  on  those  who  are  within  a  few  yards  of  Chinese 
commands  is  at  times  terrible.  At  night  many  men  can 
only  be  held  in  place  by  a  system  of  patrols  designed 
to  give  them  confidence.  .    .    . 

I  have  just  said  that  no  part  of  the  second  half  of  our 
irregular  system  was  in  direct  touch  with  the  enemy,  but 
this,  although  true  enough  to-day,  was  not  so  yesterday. 
The  Chinese  pushed  up  a  gun  somewhere  near  the 
dangerous  southwestern  corner  of  the  British  Legation, 
and  the  fire  became  so  annoying  that  it  was  decided  to 
make  a  sortie  and  effect  a  capture  if  possible.  Cap- 
tain H ,  the  second  captain  of  the  British  detach- 
ment, was  selected  to  command  the  sortie,  and  with  a 
small  force  of  British  marines  who  have  been  pining  at 
their  enforced  inaction  and  dull  sentry-go,  and  are 
jealous  of  the  greater  glory  the  others  have  already 
earned  by  their  successful  butchery  of  the  enemy,  a  wall 
was  breached  and  our  men  rushed  out.  Being  off  duty,  I 
witnessed  most  of  the  affair.  Of  course,  the  sortie  ended 
in  failure,  as  every  such  movement  is  foredoomed  to, 
when  the  nature  of  the  ground  which  surrounds  us  is 
considered.  There  are  nothing  but  small  Chinese  houses 
and  walls  on  every  side,  making  it  impossible  to  move 
beyond  our  lines  without  demolishing  and  breaking 
through  heavy  brickwork.  The  marines  went  forward 
as  gallantly  as  they  could,  and  surprised  some  of  the 
nests   of   sharpshooters   protecting   the    gun;    but    the 


150         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

Chinese,  as  they  retreated,  set  fire  to  the  houses  on  all 
sides,  and  in  the  thick  flames  and  smoke  it  was  impossible 
to  move  save  back  by  the  way  they  had  come.  Under 
cover  of  the  smoke  the  Chinese  soldiery  opened  a  tre- 
mendous fire  on  the  sortie  party,  who  were  picking  up 
some  of  the  rifles  and  swords  with  which  the  ground  was 
strewn,  and  seeing  that  our  men  could  not  possibly  ad- 
vance, the  enemy  pushed  forward  boldly,  rapidly  firing 
more  and  more  energetically.  The  British  captain  re- 
ceived a  terrible  wound,  but  refused  to  retire ;  a  marine 
was  shot  through  the  groin  and  died  in  a  few  minutes; 
bullets  cut  the  men's  tunics  to  pieces;  and  in  a  hailstorm 
of  fire,  poured  on  them  a  few  yards  away,  they  retreated. 

H covered  the  retreat  all  the  way,  wounded  as  he 

was,  and  shot  three  men  with  his  revolver,  who  were 
heading  a  last  desperate  rush  at  his  men  as  they  made 
for  the  hole  in  the  wall.  Dripping  with  blood,  this 
brave  man  staggered  all  the  way  to  the  hospital  alone, 
refusing  all  support,  and  gripping  his  smoking  revolver 
to  the  last.  His  battered  appearance  so  frightened  all 
the  miserables  who  swarm  in  the  British  Legation  that 
every  one  was  very  gloomy  until  the  next  meal  had  been 
eaten,  and  they  had  restored  themselves  by  garrulous 
talk.  The  German  doctor  says  that  H will  prob- 
ably die. 

Meanwhile  the  Americans  on  the  Wall  are  behaving 
more  erratically  than  ever.  They  have  retired  and  re- 
occupied  their  position  three  or  four  times  since  the  siege 
began,  and  the  men  are  now  more  than  mutinous.  Yes- 
terday they  came  down  twice — no  one  could  quite  make 
out  why — and  after  a  lapse  of  an  hour  or  two  in  each 
case,  they  returned.  Matters  reached  a  crisis  this  morn- 
ing, and  a  council  of  war  was  called  by  the  British  Min- 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN  151 

ister,  composed  of  all  the  officers  commanding  detach- 
ments. The  meeting  took  place  under  the  American 
barricade  on  the  Tartar  Wall  itself,  apparently  to  give 
confidence  to  the  men  and  to  make  them  ashamed  of 
themselves.  But  the  most  curious  part  of  it  all  was  that 
our  commander-in-chief  excused  himself  on  the  diplo- 
matic ground  that  he  was  sick,  and  amid  the  smiles  of 

all,  Captain  T ,  the  Austrian,  presided  and  laid  down 

the  law.  This  clearly  shows  how  absurd  is  our  whole 
system.  Every  one  says  the  Americans  were  quite 
ashamed  of  themselves  when  the  meeting  was  over,  for 
the  general  vote  of  all  the  detachment  officers  was  that 
the  position  was  well  fortified,  easy  to  retain,  and  abso- 
lutely essential  to  hold.  They  say  the  whole  reason  is 
that  there  is  internal  trouble  in  the  American  contingent, 
and  that  one  of  the  officers  is  hated.  Whether  this  is 
really  so  or  not,  I  do  not  know;  we  never  know  anything 
certain  now.  But  although  the  American  has  but  little 
discipline,  as  a  sharpshooter  on  the  defensive  he  is  quite 
unrivalled  by  reason  of  his  superior  intelligence  and  the 
interest  he  takes  in  devoting  himself  to  the  matter  in 
hand.  You  only  have  to  see  these  mutinous  marines  at 
work  for  five  minutes  as  snipers  to  be  convinced  of 
that.  I  saw  a  case  in  point  only  a  few  hours  ago.  Men 
were  wanted  to  drive  back,  or  at  least  intimidate,  a 
whole  nest  of  Chinese  riflemen,  who  had  cautiously 
established  themselves  in  a  big  block  of  Chinese  houses 
across  the  dry  canal,  which  separates  the  British  Lega- 
tion from  the  Su  wang-fu.  This  block  of  houses  is  so 
placed  that  an  enfilading  fire  can  reach  a  number  of 
points  which  are  hidden  from  the  Japanese  lines;  and 
this  enfilading  fire  was  badly  needed,  as  the  Chinese 
riflemen  were  becoming  more  and  more  daring,  and  had 


152         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

already  made  several  hits.  Half  a  dozen  of  the  best 
American  shots  were  requisitioned. 

The  six  men  who  came  over  went  deliberately  to  work 
in  a  very  characteristic  way.  They  split  into  pairs,  and 
each  pair  got,  by  some  means,  binoculars.  After  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  they  settled  down  to  work,  lying  on  their 
stomachs.  First  they  stripped  off  their  slouch  hats  and 
hung  them  up  elsewhere,  but  instead  of  putting  them 
a  few  feet  to  the  right  or  left  as  everybody  else,  with  a 
vague  idea  of  Red  Indian  warfare,  within  our  lines  had 
been  doing,  they  placed  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  attract 
the  enemy's  fire  and  make  the  enemy  disclose  himself, 
which  is  quite  a  different  matter.  This  they  did  by  add- 
ing their  coats  and  decorating  adjacent  trees  with  them 
so  far  away  from  where  they  lay  that  there  could  be  no 
chance  of  the  enemy's  bad  shooting  hitting  them  by  mis- 
take— as  had  been  the  case  elsewhere  where  this  device 
had  been  tried. 

All  this  by-play  took  some  time,  but  at  last  they  were 
ready — one  man  armed  with  a  pair  of  binoculars  and 
the  other  with  the  American  naval  rifle — the  Lee 
straight-pull,  which  fires  the  thinnest  pin  of  a  cartridge 
I  have  seen  and  has  but  a  two-pound  trigger  pull.  Even 
then  nothing  was  done  for  perhaps  another  ten  min- 
utes, and  in  some  cases  for  half  an  hour;  it  varied 
according  to  individual  requirements.  Then  when  the 
quarry  was  located  by  the  man  with  the  binoculars,  and 
the  man  with  the  rifle  had  finished  asking  a  lot  of  playful 
questions  so  as  to  gain  time,  the  first  shots  were  fired. 
The  marines  armed  with  binoculars  were  not  unduly 
elated  by  any  one  shot,  but  merely  reported  progress  in 
a  characteristic  American  fashion — that  is,  by  a  system 
of  chaffing.    This  provided  tonic,  and  presently  the  bul- 


THE  BONDS  TIGHTEN  153 

lets  crept  in  so  close  to  the  marks  that  all  chaff  was  for- 
gotten. Sometimes  it  took  an  hour,  or  even  two,  to 
bring  down  a  single  man;  but  no  matter  how  long  the 
time  necessary  might  be,  the  Americans  stayed  patiently 
with  their  man  until  the  sniper's  life's  blood  was  drilled 
out  of  him  by  these  thin  pencils  of  Lee  straight-pull  bul- 
lets. Once,  and  once  only,  did  rxcitement  overtake  a 
linked  pair  I  was  watching.  They  had  already  knocked 
over  two  of  the  enemy  aloft  in  trees,  and  were  attacking 
a  third,  who  only  showed  his  head  occasionally  above  a 
roof-line  when  he  fired,  and  who  bobbed  up  and  down 
with  lightning  speed.  The  sole  thing  to  do  under  the 
circumstances  was  to  calculate  when  the  head  would  re- 
appear. So  the  man  with  the  binoculars  calculated 
aloud  for  the  benefit  of  the  man  with  the  rifle,  and  soon, 
in  safety  below  the  wall-line,  a  curious  group  had  col- 
lected to  see  the  end.  But  it  was  a  hard  shot  and  a  dis- 
appointing one,  since  it  was  essential  not  to  scare  the 
quarry  thoroughly  by  smashing  the  roof-line  instead  of 
the  head.  So  the  bullets  flew  high,  and  although  the 
sharpshooter  was  comforted  by  the  remarks  of  the  other 
man,  no  progress  was  made.  Then  suddenly  the  rifle- 
man fired,  on  an  inspiration,  he  said  afterwards,  and  lo! 
and  behold,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  Chinese  brave 
rose    clear    in    the    air    and    then   tumbled    backwards. 

"Killed,  by  G ;  killed,  by  G !"  swore  the  man 

with  the  binoculars  irreverently;  and  well  content  with 
their  morning's  work,  the  two  climbed  down  and  went 
away. 

You  will  realise  from  all  these  things  that  everything 
is  still  very  erratic,  and  that  the  men  remain  badly  dis- 
tributed. Nor  is  this  all.  The  general  command  over 
the  whole  of  the  Legation  area  is  now  plainly  modelled 


154         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

on  the  Chinese  plan — that  is,  the  officer  commanding 
does  not  interfere  with  the  others,  excepting  when  he  can 
do  so  with  impunity  to  himself.  As  I  have  shown,  or- 
ders which  are  distasteful  are  simply  ignored.  There 
is  a  spirit  of  rebellion  which  can  only  spring  from  one 
cause.  People  who  have  read  a  lot  say  that  every  siege 
in  history  has  been  like  this — with  everything  incom- 
plete and  in  disorder.  If  this  is  so,  I  wonder  how  his- 
tory has  been  made !  Certainly  in  this  age  there  is  very 
little  of  real  valour  and  bravery.  Perhaps  there  has 
been  a  little  in  the  past,  and  it  Is  only  the  glozing-over  of 
time  which  makes  it  seem  otherwise. 


V 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  BOARD  OF  TRUCE 

25th  June,  1900  (night-time) 


It  is  always  true  that  the  unexpected  affords  relief  when 
least  awaited.     In  our  case  it  has  been  amply  proved. 

The  sun,  which  had  been  shining  fiercely  all  day  long 
until  we  felt  fairly  baked  and  very  disconsolate,  was 
heaving  down  slowly  towards  the  wTest,  flooding  the  pink 
walls  of  the  Imperial  city  with  a  golden  light  and  sink- 
ing the  black  outline  of  the  sombre  Tartar  Wall  that 
towers  so  high  above  us,  when  all  round  our  battered 
lines  the  dropping  rifle-fire  drooped  more  and  more 
until  single  shots  alone  punctuated  the  silence.  Our  out- 
posts, grouping  together,  leaned  on  their  rifles  and  gave 
vent  to  sighs  of  relief.  Perhaps  something  had  at  last 
really  happened,  for  though  five  days  only  have  passed 
since  the  beginning  of  the  real  siege,  they  seemed  to 
every  one  more  like  five  weeks,  or  even  five  months,  so 
clearly  do  startling  events  separate  one  by  huge  gaps 
from  the  dull  routine  of  every-day  life.  All  of  us  lis- 
tened attentively,  and  presently  on  all  sides  the  fierce 
music  of  the  long  Chinese  trumpets  blared  out  uproar- 
iously— blare,  blare,  sobbing  on  a  high  note  tremu- 
lously, and  then,  boom,  boom,  suddenly  dropping  to 
a  thrilling  basso  profondissimo.  Even  the  children 
know  that  sound  now.  Louder  and  louder  the  trumpet- 
calls  rang  out  to  one  another  in  answering  voice,  impera- 


1.56         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

tively  calling  off  the  attacking  forces.  Impelled  to  re- 
tire by  this  constant  clamour,  all  the  Chinese  soldiery 
must  have  retreated,  except  a  few  straggling  snipers, 
who  remained  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  dully  and 
methodically  loosing  off  their  rifles  at  our  barricades. 
Ten  or  fifteen  minutes  passed,  and  then,  as  if  the  grow- 
ing solitude  were  oppressing  them,  these  last  snipers 
desisted,  and,  coolly  rising  and  disclosing  their  brightly 
coloured  tunics  and  sombre  turbans,  they  sauntered  off 
in  full  view.  I  saw  half  a  dozen  go  off  in  this  way. 
Clearly  something  remarkable  was  happening  and  our 
astonishment  deepened. 

Presently  the  word  ran  round  our  half-mile  of  barri- 
cades that  a  board,  with  big  Chinese  characters  written 
across  it,  had  been  placed  by  a  Chinese  soldier  bearing 
the  conventional  white  flag  of  truce  on  the  parapet  of  the 

north  bridge,  where  J ,  the  first  man  killed,  had 

fallen,  and  that  the  curious  board  was  exciting  every 
one's  astonishment.  Getting  leave  to  absent  myself,  I 
ran  into  the  British  Legation,  and  from  a  scaffolding  not 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  bridge  I  saw  the  mysterious 
placard  with  my  own  eyes.  Already  binoculars  and 
telescopes  had  been  busily  adjusted,  and  all  the  sino- 
logues mustered  in  the  British  Legation  had  roughly 
written  copies  of  the  message  in  their  hands  and  were 
disputing  as  to  the  exact  meaning.  It  was  only  then 
that  I  realised  what  a  strange  medley  of  nationalities 
had  been  collected  together  in  this  siege.  Frenchmen, 
Russians,  Germans,  Japanese,  English,  Americans,  and 
many  others  were  all  arguing  together,  until  finally 
H ,  the  great  administrator,  was  called  upon  to  de- 
cide.    The  legend  ran: 

"In  accordance  with  the  Imperial  commands  to  pro- 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  BOARD  OF  TRUCE  157 

tect  the  Ministers,  firing  will  cease  immediately  and  a 
despatch  will  be  delivered  at  the  Imperial  canal-bridge." 

A  vast  commotion  was  created,  as  you  may  judge,  when 
this  news  circulated  among  the  refugee  Ministers  and 
all  the  heterogeneous  crowd  who  have  been  behaving  so 
strangely  since  the  serious  business  began.  Not  one  of 
us  had  relished  the  idea  of  being  massacred  after  the 
manner  of  the  Indian  Mutiny,  but  there  are  different 
ways  of  behaving  under  such  perils;  some  of  those  we 
had  witnessed  would  not  bear  relating. 

In  a  very  short  time,  indeed,  a  suitable  reply  had  been 
written  briefly  in  Chinese  on  another  board,  but  the 
finding  of  a  messenger  was  more  difficult.  We  must 
send  a  proper  man.  A  Chinaman  was  at  length  dis- 
covered, who,  after  having  been  invested  with  the  cus- 
tomary official  hat  and  the  long  official  coat,  was  per- 
suaded to  advance  towards  the  bridge  bearing  our 
message  and  piteously  waving  a  white  flag  to  show  that 
he  likewise  was  a  harbinger  of  peace.  The  man 
progressed  but  slowly  towards  the  Imperial  bridge,  and 
twice  he  gave  unmistakable  signs  of  wishing  to  bolt; 
but  urged  on  by  cries  and  a  frantic  waving,  he  at  last 
reached  the  parapet  on  which  leaned  our  enemy's 
placard.  Then  depositing  our  own  reply,  his  courage 
left  him  completely,  and  he  incontinently  bolted  for  our 
lines  as  hard  as  he  could  run,  casting  his  dignity  to  the 
winds.  In  his  haste  he  had  set  his  board  all  askew,  and 
the  enemy  could  not  possibly  have  understood  it.  But 
no  arguments  could  induce  our  messenger  to  return.  He 
swore,  indeed,  that  he  had  just  escaped  in  time,  as  the 
enemy's  rifles  were  all  pointed  towards  him  from  a  num- 
ber of  positions  just  beneath  the  Imperial  city  wall, 
which  we  could  not  see  from  our  lines.     So  nothing 


158         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

more  was  done  by  our  headquarters,  and  an  hour  passed 
away  with  all  the  world  waiting,  but  with  no  Imperial 
despatch  brought  to  us. 

The  sun  was  now  down  only  six  inches  above  the  pink 
walls — in  another  hour  it  would  be  dark  and  our  posi- 
tion would  be  exactly  the  same  as  before.  On  all  sides 
our  fighting  line  had  clambered  over  their  barricades  and 
were  examining  the  enemy's  silent  ones  with  curiosity. 
Beyond  the  fortified  Hanlin  courtyards,  to  the  north  of 
the  British  Legation  courtyards,  which  had  been  occu- 
pied and  heavily  sandbagged  after  the  big  fires  there, 
so  as  to  keep  the  enemy  at  a  safe  distance— the  mass  of 
ruins  were  indeed  as  silent  and  as  deserted  as  a  grave- 
yard. Cautiously  escalading  walls  and  pushing  down 
narrow  alleyways,  some  of  us  advanced  several  hundred 
yards  to  see  what  was  happening  beyond;  and  presently, 
standing  on  the  top  of  an  unbroken  wall  line,  there  were 
the  Palace  gates  and  the  mysterious  pink  walls  almost 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  us.  The  sun  had  moved  still 
farther  west,  and  its  slanting  rays  now  struck  the  Im- 
perial city,  under  whose  orders  we  had  been  so  lustily 
bombarded,  with  a  wonderful  light.  Just  outside  the 
Palace  gates  were  crowds  of  Manchu  and  Chinese 
soldiery — infantry,  cavalry,  and  gunners  grouped  all  to- 
gether in  one  vast  mass  of  colour.  Never  in  my  life 
have  I  seen  such  a  wonderful  panorama — such  a  brilliant 
blaze  in  such  rude  and  barbaric  surroundings.  There 
were  jackets  and  tunics  of  every  colour;  trouserings  of 
blood  red  embroidered  with  black  dragons;  great  two- 
handed  swords  in  some  hands;  men  armed  with  bows 
and  arrows  mixing  with  Tung  Fu-hsiang's  Kansu  horse* 
men,  who  had  the  most  modern  carbines  slung  across 
their  backs.     There  were  blue  banners,  yellow  banners 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  BOARD  OF  TRUCE  159 

embroidered  with  black,  white  and  red  flags,  both  tri- 
angular and  square,  all  presented  in  a  jumble  to  our 
wondering  eyes.  The  Kansu  soldiery  of  Tung  Fu- 
hsiang's  command  were  easy  to  pick  out  from  among 
the  milder  looking  Peking  Banner  troops.  Tanned 
almost  to  a  colour  of  chocolate  by  years  of  campaigning 
in  the  sun,  of  sturdy  and  muscular  physique,  these  men 
who  desired  to  be  our  butchers  showed  by  their  aspect 
what  little  pity  we  should  meet  with  if  they  were  allowed 
to  break  in  on  us.  Men  from  all  the  Peking  Banners 
seemed  to  be  there  with  their  plain  and  bordered  jackets 
showing  their  divisions;  but  of  Boxers  there  was  not  a 
sign.    Where  had  the  famed  Boxers  vanished  to? 

Thus  we  stood  for  some  time,  the  enemy  gazing  as 
eagerly  at  us  as  we  at  them.  Strict  orders  must  have 
come  from  the  Palace,  for  not  a  hostile  sign  was  made. 
It  was  almost  worth  five  days  of  siege  just  to  see  that 
unique  sight,  which  took  one  back  to  times  when  savage 
hordes  were  overrunning  the  world.  Peking  is  still  so 
barbaric ! 

We  sent  back  word  that  it  might  be  possible  to  parley 
with  the  enemy,  and  to  learn,  perhaps,  the  reason  for 
this  sudden  truce ;  and  soon  several  members  of  the  so- 
called  general  committee,  whose  organisation  and  duties 
I  confess  I  do  not  clearly  understand,  came  out  from  our 
lines  and  stood  waving  their  handkerchiefs.  But  it  was 
some  time  before  the  gaudy-coated  enemy  would  pay 
any  attention  to  these  advances,  and  finally  one  of  our 
committeemen,  to  show  that  he  was  a  man  of  peace 
and  really  wished  to  speak  with  them,  went  slowly  for- 
ward with  his  hands  held  high  above  his  head.  Then  a 
thin,  sallow  Chinese,  throwing  a  sword  to  the  ground, 
advanced  from  the  Palace  walls,  and  finally  these  two 


160         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

were  standing  thirty  or  forty  yards  apart  and  within  hail 
of  one  another.  Then  a  parley  began  which  led  to  noth- 
ing, but  gave  us  some  news.  The  board  ordering  firing 
to  cease  had  been  carried  out  under  instructions  from 
Jung  Lu — Jung  Lu  being  the  Generalissimo  of  the 
Peking  field  forces.  A  despatch  would  certainly  follow, 
because  even  now  a  Palace  meeting  was  being  held.  The 
Empress  Dowager,  the  man  continued,  was  much  dis- 
tressed, and  had  given  orders  to  stop  the  fighting;  the 
Boxers  were  fools.   .    .    . 

Then  the  soldier  waved  a  farewell,  and  retreated  cau- 
tiously, picking  his  way  back  through  the  ruins  and 
masses  of  debris.  Several  times  he  stopped  and  raised 
the  head  of  some  dead  man  that  lay  there,  victim  to  our 
rifles,  and  peered  at  the  face  to  see  whether  it  was 
recognisable.  In  five  days  we  have  accounted  for  very 
many  killed  and  wounded,  and  numbers  still  lie  in  the 
exposed  positions  where  they  fell. 

The  disappearing  figure  of  that  man  was  the  end  to  the 
last  clue  we  came  across  regarding  the  meaning  of  this 
sudden  quiet.  The  shadows  gradually  lengthened  and 
night  suddenly  fell,  and  around  us  were  nothing  but 
these  strangely  silent  ruins.  There  was  barricade  for 
barricade,  loophole  for  loophole,  and  sandbag  for  sand- 
bag. What  has  been  levelled  to  the  ground  by  fire  has 
been  heaped  up  once  more  so  that  the  ruins  themselves 
may  bring  more  ruin  1 

But  although  we  exhausted  ourselves  with  questions, 
and  many  of  us  hoped  against  hope,  the  hours  sped 
slowly  by  and  no  message  came.  The  Palace,  enclosed 
in  its  pink  walls,  had  slunk  to  sleep,  or  forgotten  us — or, 
perhaps,  had  even  found  that  there  could  be  no  truce. 
Then  midnight  came,  and  as  we  were  preparing,  half 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  BOARD  OF  TRUCE  161 

incredulously,  to  go  to  sleep,  we  truly  knew.  Crack, 
crack,  went  the  first  shots  from  some  distant  barricade, 
and  bang  went  an  answering  rifle  on  our  side.  Awak- 
ened by  these  echoes,  the  firing  grew  naturally  and  me- 
chanically to  the  storm  of  sound  we  have  become  so 
accustomed  to,  and  the  short  truce  was  forgotten.  It 
is  no  use;  we  must  go  through  to  the  end.   .    .    . 


VI 

SHELLS   AND   SORTIES 

3d  July,   1900. 


For  a  week  I  have  written  nothing,  absolutely  nothing, 
and  have  not  even  taken  a  note,  nor  cared  what  hap- 
pened to  me  or  to  anybody  else.  How  could  I  when  I 
have  been  so  crushed  by  unending  sentry-go,  by  such  an 
unending  roar  of  rifles  and  crash  of  shells,  that  I  merely 
mechanically  wake  at  the  appointed  hour,  mechanically 
perform  my  duty  and  as  mechanically  fall  asleep  again. 
My  ego  has  been  crushed  out  of  me,  and  I  have  become, 
doubtless,  quite  rightly  so,  an  insignificant  atom  in  a 
curious  thing  called  a  siege.  No  mortal  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, no  matter  how  faithful  to  an  appointed  task, 
can  put  pencil  to  paper,  and  attempt  to  sketch  the  con- 
fusion and  smoke  around  him.  You  may  try,  perhaps, 
as  I  have  tried,  and  then,  suddenly,  before  you  can  real- 
ise it,  you  fall  half  asleep  and  pencil  and  paper  are  thrice 
damned. 

For  we  have  been  worked  so  hard,  those  of  us  who  do 
not  care  and  are  young,  and  the  enemy  is  pushing  in  so 
close  and  so  persistently,  that  we  have  not  much  farther 
to  run  if  the  signs  that  I  see  about  me  go  for  anything. 
Artillery,  to  the  number  of  some  eight  or  ten  pieces,  is 
now  grinding  our  barricades  to  pieces  and  making  our 
outworks  more  and  more  untenable.  Rifle  bullets  float 
overhead  in  such  swarms  that  by  a  comparison  of  notes 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  163 

I  now  estimate  that  there  must  be  from  five  to  six  thou- 
sand infantry  and  dismounted  cavalry  ranged  against 
us.  Mines  are  being  already  run  under  so  many 
parts  of  our  advanced  lines,  and  their  dangers  are  so 
near  that  on  the  outworks  we  fall  asleep  ready  to 
be   blown    up.   .    .    . 

.  .  .  Nor  are  the  dangers  merely  prospective.  They 
are  actual  and  grimly  disgusting.  During  the  past  week. 
the  casualty  list  has  gone  on  rapidly  increasing,  and  to- 
day our  total  is  close  on  one  hundred  killed  and  wounded 
in  less  than  two  weeks'  intermittent  fighting  out  of  a 
force  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  rifles.  The  shells  oc- 
casionally fly  low  and  take  you  on  the  head;  the  bullets 
flick  through  loopholes  or  as  often  take  you  in  the  back 
from  some  enfilading  barricades,  and  thus  through  two 
agencies  you  can  be  hastened  towards  the  Unknown. 
As  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned,  it  is  largely  a  mat- 
ter of  food  whether  this  affects  one  acutely  or  not.  If 
you  have  a  full  stomach  you  do  not  mind  so  much,  and 
even  shrug  your  shoulders  should  the  man  next  to  you  be 
hit;  but  at  four  or  five  in  the  morning,  when  everything 
is  pale  and  damp,  and  you  are  stomach-sick,  it  is  nerve- 
shaking  to  see  a  man  brutally  struck  and  gasping 
under  the  blow.  I  have  seen  this  happen  three  times; 
once  it  was  truly  horrible,  for  I  was  so  splashed  with 
blood.   .   .   . 

It  is  also  largely  a  matter  of  days.  On  some  days,  you 
think,  in  a  curious  sort  of  a  way,  that  your  turn  has 
come,  and  that  it  will  be  all  over  in  a  few  minutes.  You 
try  to  convince  yourself  by  silent  arguing  that  such 
thoughts  are  the  merest  foolishness,  that  you  are  at 
heart  a  real  coward;  but  in  spite  of  every  device  the 
feeling  remains,  and  in  place  of  your  former  unconcern 


164         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

a  nervousness  takes  possession  of  you.  This  nervousness 
is  not  exactly  the  nervousness  of  yourself,  for  your  outer 
self  surveys  your  inner  depths  with  some  contempt,  but 
the  slight  fear  remains.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is — 
it  is  inexplicable.    Yet  it  is  there. 

Yesterday  I  had  the  experience  in  full  force,  just  as  a 
line  of  us  in  extended  order  were  galloping  up  to  a 
threatened  position.  My  boots  untied  and  twice  nearly 
tripped  me.  I  had  to  stop,  perhaps  two  seconds,  per- 
haps five,  dropping  on  my  knee  with  my  head  low  beside 
it.  For  some  reason  I  did  not  finish  tying  the  laces.  I 
sprang  up,  threw  my  right  leg  forward  preparatory  to 
doubling,  and  then  ping — I  was  spinning  on  the  ground, 
laughing  at  my  own  clumsiness  in  falling  down.  Then  I 
glanced  to  see  why  my  right  knee-cap  stung  me  so  much. 
I  stopped  laughing.  A  bullet  had  split  across  the  skin — 
rafie,  the  French  call  it — and  a  shred  of  my  trousers, 
mixed  with  some  shreds  of  skin,  was  hanging  down  cov- 
ered with  blood.  Half  a  second  before  my  head  had 
been  exactly  where  my  knee  was,  and  had  I  not  moved, 
spurred  by  some  curious  intuition,  I  would  have  been 
dead  on  the  ground.  Perhaps  one's  inner  consciousness 
knows  more  than  one  thinks.   .  .   . 

But  such  personal  experiences  are  trivial  compared 
with  what  is  going  on  around  us  generally.  I  should 
not  speak  of  them.  For  if  the  Chinese  commands  are 
closing  in  on  us  on  every  side,  our  fighting  line  is  biting 
back  as  savagely  as  it  can,  and  is  giving  them  better 
than  they  give  us  when  we  get  to  grips.  But  in  spite  of 
this  our  position  is  less  enviable  than  ever,  and  it  requires 
no  genius  to  see  that  if  the  Chinese  commanders  persist 
in  their  present  policy  the  Legations  must  fall  unless 
relief  comes  in  another  two  weeks. 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  165 

Look  at  the  Su  wang-fu  and  the  plucky  little  Japanese 
colonel  I  You  will,  perhaps,  remember  that  I  said  that 
the  great  flanking  wall  of  the  Su  wang-fu  was  far  too 
big  a  task  for  the  Japanese  command,  and  that  sooner 
or  later  they  would  have  to  give  way.  It  has  been 
proved  days  ago  that  what  I  said  was  correct,  for  slowly 
but  surely  the  fire  of  two  Chinese  guns  has  demolished 
successively  the  outer  wall,  the  enclosed  courtyards  be- 
hind it,  and  then  a  line  of  houses  linked  together  by 
field-works  hastily  constructed  from  the  rubble  lying 
around.  It  was  my  duty  to  be  one  of  a  post  of  six  men 
hastily  sent  here  and  entrenched  on  the  fringe  of  our 
defence  in  one  of  these  Chinese  houses.  It  was  a  curi- 
ous experience.     It  lasted  for  hours. 

Inside  the  partly  demolished  wall  of  one  house  we  were 
forced  to  squat  on  a  staging,  peeping  at  the  enemy,  who 
was  not  more  than  twenty  yards  off,  lying  perdu  just 
behind  a  confused  mass  of  low-lying  barricades.  These 
riflemen,  flung  far  forward  of  the  main  Chinese  posi- 
tions in  this  quarter,  lay  very  silent,  hardly  moving  hour 
after  hour.  A  couple  of  hundred  yards  or  so  behind 
them,  the  main  body  of  the  enemy,  secure  behind  mas- 
sive earthen  and  brick  works,  poured  in  an  unending  fire 
on  our  devoted  heads  with  a  vigour  which  never  seemed 
to  flag.  Our  loopholes,  which  we  had  carefully  blocked 
up  with  loose  bricks  so  that  the  merest  cracks  remained, 
spat  dust  at  us  as  the  enemy's  bullets  persistently  pecked 
at  the  outside,  but  could  gain  no  entrance.  Sometimes 
a  single  missile  would  slue  its  way  in  through  every- 
thing and  end  with  a  sob  against  the  inside  wall.  Once 
one  came  crash  through  and  struck  the  Japanese  who 
was  next  to  me  full  in  the  face.  It  knocked  out  two 
teeth,  cut  his  mouth  and  his  cheek  so  that  they  bled  red 


166         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

blood  hour  after  hour,  making  him  hideous  to  look  on; 
but  the  Japanese,  calmly  untying  the  clout  which  en- 
cased his  head,  bound  it  instead  across  the  wound,  merely 
cursing  the  enemy  and  not  stirring  an  inch.  The  rest 
of  us  had  not  time  to  note  much  even  of  that  which  was 
taking  place  right  alongside  of  us;  for  we  had  orders  to 
be  ready  at  any  moment  for  a  forward  rush.  If  it  had 
come  we  should  have  been  caught  in  a  trap  and  lost. 
That  I  knew  and  understood. 

We  had  stood  this  storm  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
were  beginning  to  revenge  ourselves  on  the  advanced 
line  of  skirmishers  by  winging  them  whenever  an  incau- 
tious movement  disclosed  an  arm  or  a  leg,  although  we 
had  the  strictest  orders  not  to  fire  except  to  check  a  rush, 
when  a  new  danger  presented  itself,  and  was  added  to 
our  already  uncomfortable  position.  An  antiquated 
gun  that  had  been  sending  screeching  shells  over  our 
heads,  had  evidently  been  given  orders  to  drive  us  from 
where  we  lay,  for  the  shells  which  had  been  flying  high 
moved  lower  and  lower,  and  buzzed  more  and  more 
fiercely,  until  at  last  one  struck  the  roof.  The  aim,  how- 
ever, was  still  too  high,  for  the  debris  of  tiles,  timber 
and  mortar  clattered  down  the  other  side  of  the  house 
and  did  us  no  harm. 

It  may  have  been  five  or  ten  minutes  when  a  tremen- 
dous blow  shook  our  staging,  and  a  vast  shower  of  fall- 
ing tiles  and  bricks  drowned  all  other  sound.  A  shell, 
aimed  well  and  low,  had  taken  the  roof  full  and  fair,  and 
brought  a  big  piece  in  on  top  of  us.  For  some  time  we 
could  see  nothing,  nor  realise  the  extent  of  the  damage 
done,  for  clouds  of  choking  dust  filled  our  improvised 
fort,  and  made  us  oblivious  to  everything  except  a  su- 
preme desire  for  fresh  air.    Pushing  our  loopholes  open, 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  167 

regardless  of  the  enemy's  fire,  we  gasped  for  breath; 
never  have  I  been  so  choked  and  so  distressed,  and  pres- 
ently, the  air  clearing  a  little,  a  huge  rent  in  the  roof  was 
disclosed.  On  the  ground  behind  lay  piles  upon  piles 
of  rubbish  and  broken  tiles,  and  perilously  near  our 
heads  a  huge  rafter  sagged  downwards,  half  split  in  two. 
We  were  debating  how  long  we  could  stand  under  such 
circumstances,  when  a  second  shock  shook  the  building, 
and  once  more  we  were  deluged  with  dust  and  dirt. 
This  time  the  hanging  rafter  was  dislodged  and  fell  sul- 
lenly with  a  heavy  crash  to  the  ground ;  and  now,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  gap  in  the  roof,  a  long  rent  appeared  in  the 
rear  wall.  Our  top  line  of  loopholes  was  obviously 
worse  than  useless,  and  as  it  seemed  more  than  likely 
that  with  the  accurate  range  they  had  got  the  Chinese 
gunners  would  soon  be  pitching  their  shells  right  into 
our  faces,  we  decided  to  climb  down  off  the  staging  and 
man  a  lower  line  of  loopholes  pierced  two  feet  above 
the  ground  line.  Here  we  could  see  very  little  in  front 
on  account  of  the  ruins.  We  were  not  a  minute  too 
soon,  for  the  very  next  missile  struck  our  front  wall 
fairly  and  squarely,  and  showered  bricks  and  ragged  bits 
of  segment  on  to  the  platform  above  us.  Luckily  the 
planks  and  timber  with  which  this  edifice  was  stoutly 
constructed  saved  our  heads,  and  the  loosened  bricks, 
piling  up  on  the  improvised  flooring  above  us,  made  our 
position  below  even  more  secure.  Seizing  the  breathing 
time  the  clumsy  reloading  of  the  gun  attacking  us  gave, 
we  pulled  spare  rafters  and  bricks  around  us  in  the  shape 
of  a  blockhouse,  and  thus  apparently  buried  in  the  ruins 
of  the  house,  we  were  soon  in  reality  quite  comfortably 
and  securely  ensconced.  Slowly  and  methodically  the  ar- 
tillerymen demolished  the  upper  part  of  our  fort,  and 


168         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

brought  tons  and  tons  of  bricks  and  slates  rattling  about 
our  ears;  but  with  the  exception  of  many  bruises  im- 
partially distributed  among  all  of  us,  no  one  was  further 
hurt.  After  two  hours'  bombardment  and  throwing 
forty  or  fifty  shells  right  on  top  of  us,  the  enemy  appar- 
ently tired  of  the  amusement,  and  we,  on  our  part,  see- 
ing no  good  in  remaining  where  we  were,  sallied  out  of 
the  side  of  the  building  and  suddenly  faced  the 
skirmishers,  who  were  still  lying  on  the  sunburned 
bricks.  The  Chinese  soldiery,  alarmed  at  this  sudden 
appearance  when  they  must  have  thought  us  dead,  took 
precipitously  to  flight,  and  in  their  haste  to  escape  so  ex- 
posed themselves  that  we  had  no  difficulty  in  rolling  over 
a  couple.  As  soon  as  they  had  retreated  we  re-occupied 
a  little  position  slightly  in  advance  of  the  house,  and  lay 
there  contentedly  munching  biscuit  and  having  a  pull  at 
the  water  bottles.  It  is  extraordinary  how  callous  you 
become. 

It  was  not  until  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
that  we  were  relieved,  and  then  in  a  fashion  that  highly 
flattered  our  vanity.  The  little  Japanese  colonel  ap- 
peared in  person  with  a  small  force  of  riflemen  and  some 
stretcher  bearers,  and  he  fell  back  in  astonishment  when 
he  saw  our  occupation.  We  had  pushed  forward  a  look- 
out a  few  yards  in  advance,  and  the  rest  of  us  were 
playing  noughts  and  crosses  on  some  broken  tiles.  In 
front  of  us  the  barricades  were  silent,  and  the  Japanese 
sailor  so  curiously  wounded  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
day  was  fiercely  wrangling  with  an  English  volunteer, 
who  had  taught  him  tliz  game  and  had  just  insulted  him 
by  saying  he  was  cheating.  The  colonel  declared  he  had 
thought  us  all  dead,  but  that  although  he  had  sent  twice 
to  find  out  how  we  were  faring,  the  tremendous  storm  of 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  169 

shells  and  bullets  racing  round  our  entire  lines  had  made 
it  impossible  to  reinforce  us.  The  French,  he  said,  had 
been  so  heavily  beaten  that  he  had  had  to  prepare  for  a 
general  retreat  into  the  British  Legation;  the  Germans 
had  been  swept  off  the  Tartar  Wall;  the  Americans  had 
been  shaken  and  almost  driven  back;  and  had  not  the 
Chinese  themselves  tired  of  the  game,  another  hour 
would  have  seen  a  general  retreat  sounded.  We  were 
much  commended  for  not  having  fallen  back,  but  we 
pointed  out  that  it  had  been  really  nothing,  since  we  had 
only  had  one  man  slightly  wounded.  Still,  it  was  an  ex- 
perience hard  to  beat  to  be  left  in  a  house  practically 
levelled  to  the  ground  by  shell-fire,  and  as  I  got  eighteen 
hours  off  duty  granted  me,  during  which  time  I  slept 
solidly  without  waking  once,  the  whole  affair  remains 
most  firmly  impressed  on  the  tablets  of  my  memory. 
It  is  only  when  you  have  been  through  it  that  you  under- 
stand what  you  can  endure. 

All  this  was  some  days  ago,  and  was  really  nothing  to 
what  we  had  the  day  before  yesterday,  which  happened 
to  be  the  ist  of  July. 
The  Chinese  artillery  practice,  although  poor,  the  guns 
and  shells  being  hopelessly  ancient,  had  become  so  an- 
noying and  so  distressing  that  it  was  determined  to  adopt 
a  policy  of  reprisals,  taking  the  form  of  sorties,  and  by 
bayonetting  the  gunners  and  damaging  the  guns  if  we 
could  not  drag  them  off,  to  induce  the  enemy  to  make 
his  offensive  less  galling.  The  ball  was  opened  by  an 
attack  which  was  miserably  conducted  on  the  selfsame 
gun  that  had  so  harshly  treated  that  little  post  I  have  de- 
scribed a  few  days  before.  On  the  ist  of  the  month, 
Lieutenant  P ,  the  commander  of  the  Italian  hil- 
lock, laid  a  plan  of  sortie  before  headquarters  to  which 


170         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

consent  was  given.  Supported  by  British  marines  and 
volunteers,  the  Italians  were  to  make  a  sortie  in  force 
from  their  position  and  seize  the  gun.  The  Japanese 
were  to  co-operate  from  their  barricades  and  trenches 
by  opening  a  heavy  fire,  and  moving  slowly  forward  in 
extended  order  as  soon  as  the  Italian  charge  had  com- 
menced. All  the  morning  the  Italians  were  noisily  pre- 
paring, and  as  soon  as  their  attack  was  delivered,  it  jus- 
tified all  we  had  already  thought  about  them.  They 
issued  from  their  lines  with  a  wild  rush,  but  no  sooner 
did  the  Chinese  fire  strike  them  than  they  broke  and  fled, 
losing  several  killed  and  wounded,  and  fighting  like 
madmen  to  escape  through  a  passageway  which  led  back. 

P was  very  severely  wounded  in  the  arm,  and  had  to 

give  up  his  command,  and  the  bodies  of  the  Italians 
killed  were  never  recovered.  A  section  of  the  British 
Legation  students,  who  had  gone  forward  with  the 
Italians,  had  a  man  badly  wounded,  and  the  sight  of 
this  young  fellow  staggering  back  with  his  clothes 
literally  dripping  with  blood  gave  the  British  Legation 
inmates  a  start  it  took   some   time   to   recover   from. 

Later,  it  turned  out  that  P 's  sortie  plan  was  based 

on  a  faulty  map;  that  the  whole  command  found  itself 
being  fired  on  from  a  dozen  quarters  before  fifty  yards 
had  been  covered;  and  that  there  were  nothing  but  im- 
possible walls  and  barricades.  But  still  this  does  not  ex- 
cuse the  fact  that  while  the  Italians  were  behaving  like 
madmen  the  young  students  stood  stock-still  and  awaited 
orders  to  retire.  In  truth,  we  are  being  educated  by 
events. 

The  loss  of  the  Italian  commander  has  made  the  Italian 
posts  more  useless  than  ever.  These  men  are  now  ner- 
vous, and  have  hardly  a  round  of  ammunition  left,  al- 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  171 

though  they  were  given  some  of  the  captured  Chinese 
Mausers  and  a  fresh  stock  of  cartridges  three  days  ago. 
Every  shadow  is  fired  at  by  them  at  night,  and  the  vague 
uneasiness  which  overcomes  every  one  when  dozens  of 
the  enemy  are  moving  in  the  inky  black  only  a  few  feet 
off  seems  more  than  they  can  stand. 

Meanwhile  the  French  Legation,  thanks  to  this  gun- 
fire, is  now  but  a  ruined  mass  of  buildings,  a  portion  of 
which  has  fallen  into  Chinese  hands.     Alarmed  at  the 

progress  which  has  been  made  everywhere,  M ,  the 

British  Minister,  who  is  still  the  nominal  commander-in- 
chief,  has  for  days  been  pestering  the  French  com- 
mandant to  send  him  men  to  reinforce  other  points. 
The  same  stubborn  answer  has  been  sent  back,  that  not  a 
sailor  can  be  spared,  and  that  none  will  be  sent.  This 
curious  contest  between  the  commander  of  the  French 
lines  and  the  British  Minister  has  ended  in  a  species  of 
deadlock,  which  bodes  ill  for  us  all.  The  Frenchman 
believes  that  the  remains  of  the  French  lines  form  a  vital 
part  in  the  defence;  the  British  Minister,  invested  with 
military  rank  by  his  colleagues,  instead  of  examining  the 
entire  area  of  the  defence  carefully  with  his  own  eyes 
and  seeing  exactly  whether  this  is  so  or  not,  never  ven- 
tures beyond  the  limits  of  the  British  Legation.  At 
least,  no  one  has  ever  seen  him.  Even  the  so-called  chief 
of  the  staff,  who  is  the  commander  of  the  British 
marines,  does  not  regularly  visit  the  French  lines.  Prac- 
tically, it  may  be  said  that  while  there  is  death  and  mur- 
der outside  there  is  only  armed  neutrality  within.  It  is 
an  extraordinary  position. 

In  spite  of  the  way  they  have  been  treated  up  to  the  ist 
of  July,  the  French  and  Austrians  still  sullenly  cling  to 
the  ruins  of  the  French  barricades.     But  on  the  ist  the 


172         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

Chinese,  elated  at  their  success  in  capturing  the  eastern 
half  of  the  French  Legation,  pushed  their  barricades 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  only  one  hundred  yards  behind 
their  advanced  lines  they  brought  two  guns  into  action, 
firing  segment  and  shrapnel  alternately.  Under  this  de- 
vastating bombardment,  almost  a  bout  portant,  as  the 
French  say,  the  last  line  of  French  trenches  and  their 
main-gate  blockhouse  became  untenable.  Pieces  of  shell 
tore  through  everything;  men  were  wounded  more  and 
more  quickly,  and  in  the  most  sheltered  part  a  French 
volunteer,  Wagner,  had  his  entire  face  blown  off  him, 
dying  a  horrible  death.  The  French  commander,  dis- 
heartened by  the  treatment  he  had  received  from  the 
commander-in-chief,  and  convinced  that  all  his  men  would 
be  blown  to  pieces  if  they  remained  where  they  were, 
ordered  his  bugler  to  sound  the  retire.  The  clarion's  notes 
rose  shrilly  above  this  storm  of  fire,  and  dragging  their 
dead  with  them,  the  Franco- American  survivors  retreated 
into  the  fortified  line  behind  them — the  Peking  hotel. 
Here  they  manned  the  windows  and  barricades  of  the 
intrepid  Swiss'  hostelry,  which  had  already  been  heavily 
damaged  by  the  Chinese  guns.  A  determination  was 
arrived  at  not  to  be  driven  out  of  this  hotel  until  the  last 
man  had  been  killed;  it  was  necessary  at  all  costs  to  pre- 
vent the  enemy  from  breaking  in  so  far.  More  volun- 
teers were  brought  to  reinforce  this  line,  and  the  sinking 
spirits  of  the  French  were  restored;  for  within  half  an 
hour  of  their  retreat  the  bugler  had  sounded  the  advance 
again,  and  with  a  rush  the  abandoned  positions  were  re- 
occupied  and  the  Chinese  driven  back.  Then  the  guns 
stopped  their  cannonade,  and  a  breathing  space  was 
given  which  was  sufficient  to  repair  some  of  the  damage 
done. 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  17S 

While  these  stirring  events  had  been  following  each 
other  in  quick  succession  down  on  level  ground,  the  grim 
TartarWall  has  been  at  once  our  salvation  and  destroyer 
of  men.  The  Germans  have  been  having  a  terrible  time, 
and  although  they  have  borne  themselves  with  soldierly 
composure,  they  have  been  at  last  driven  clean  down 
with  heart-breaking  losses.  The  guns,  which  the  Chinese 
had  been  firing  from  the  great  Ha-taGate  half  a  mile  off, 
were  advanced  during  the  night  of  the  30th  June  to 
within  a  hundredyards  of  the  imperfectGerman  defences, 
and  on  the  1st  of  July  four  marines  were  killed  and 
six  wounded  out  of  a  post  of  fifteen  men  with  nerve-shak- 
ing rapidity.  The  Chinese  soldiers,  then  swarming  for- 
ward under  the  Tartar  Wall  itself,  threatened  the  little 
blockhouse  at  the  base,  which  kept  up  connection  with 
the  Club  and  the  German  Legation  line  of  barricades, 
and  soon  there  was  no  help  for  it,  the  eastern  Tartar 
Wall  posts  had  to  be  abandoned.  With  the  German  re- 
tirement the  Americans  abandoned  their  positions  facing 
west  and  rushed  down  to  safety  below.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  the  Americans  are  afraid;  they  have  merely 
realised  from  the  beginning  what  a  few  of  us  have  un- 
derstood. The  motley  crowd  gathered  in  the  British 
Legation,  as  well  as  our  commander-in-chief,  were 
much  stirred  by  the  American  retirement,  for  they 
already  saw  themselves  directly  bombarded  from  the 
menacing  height  of  the  city  walls — a  prospect  which 
can  enchant  no  one,  as  the  confusion  already  reigning 
would  have  been  worse  confounded  had  all  the  elderly 
persons  been  given  a  taste  of  what  the  outworks  are 
experiencing.  So  a  council  of  war  was  hastily  convened 
very  much  after  the  style  of  the  Boer  commandoes,  with 
everybody  talking  at  once,  and  it  was  at  once  decided 


174         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

that  the  blessed  Tartar  Wall  must  be  at  once  re- 
occupied  at  any  cost.  A  mixed  force,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  American  captain,  stormed  back  again, 
and  with  a  rush  found  themselves  back  in  their  old  quar- 
ters with  everything  intact.  The  representation  of  the 
American  marines  had  at  last  made  themselves  felt,  for 
British  marines  took  the  places  of  half  the  Americans, 
who  were  given  duty  elsewhere.  We  thought  that  that 
had  solved  the  question. 

But  this  was  on  the  ist  of  the  month.  To-day,  the 
3d  of  the  month,  the  position  became  once  more  unten- 
able, for  the  Chinese,  now  being  able  to  attack  the  wall 
defences  from  both  sides,  were  pushing  their  barricades 
rapidly  closer  and  closer  until  only  a  few  feet  separated 
them  from  their  prey.  So  more  men  were  called  for, 
and  this  morning,  after  a  short  harangue,  a  storming- 
party,  numbering  sixty  bayonets  and  composed  of  Brit- 
ish, Americans  and  Russians,  dashed  over  into  the  Chi- 
nese lines,  killing  thirty  of  the  enemy  and  driving  the 
rest  back  in  great  confusion.  It  was  a  brilliant  little 
affair  and  well  conducted,   but  unfortunately   Captain 

M ,  who  commanded,  was  wounded  in  the  foot, 

and  the  Americans  have  no  officer  now  fit  to  lead  them. 
It  is  a  curious  fact  worth  recording  that  owing  to 
wounds  and  staff  work,  neither  the  British  nor  Americans 
have  any  good  officers  left.  It  is  only  many  days  of  this 
close-quarter  fighting  that  shows  you  that  without  good 
officers  no  men  care  for  moving  out  of  shelter.  Unless 
there  are  men  who  will  sacrifice  themselves,  the  ordinary 
rank  and  file  feel  under  no  obligation  to  do  anything 
more  arduous  than  to  lie  comfortably  firing  at  the 
enemy.  You  can  have  no  idea  how  hard  it  is  to  get  men 
to  make  sorties;  on  the  slightest  provocation,  once  they 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  175 

have  left  their  own  barricades,  they  rush  back  to 
safety.  .   .   . 

Fortunately  with  all  these  events,  we  have  been  given 
something  else  to  think  about,  and  it  is  a  thing  of  this 
sort  which  re-establishes  confidence  more  than  any  war- 
like deeds.  I  mention  it  because  it  is  the  simple  truth. 
It  is  also  a  pretty  commentary  on  la  bete  humaine. 

You  remember  the  V-shaped  barricade  garrisoned  by 
Russian  sailors,  I  spoke  about  a  few  days  ago?  Well, 
if  you  do  not  happen  to  remember,  I  merely  need  say 
again,  that  it  is  a  barricade  facing  both  ways  on  Lega- 
tion Street,  which  now  in  the  fulness  of  time  has  blos- 
somed into  a  whole  network  of  barricades  which  protect 
our  inner  lines  and  the  British  Legation  base  from  any 
rush  of  the  enemy  which  might  succeed  momentarily  in 
getting  past  our  outworks.  The  Russian  sailors  who 
furnish  these  posts  have  been  having  a  very  easy  time 
with  nothing  to  do  but  to  eat  and  to  sleep,  and  to  mount 
guard,  turn  and  turn  about.  Of  course,  this  comparative 
idleness  in  all  the  storm  and  stress  around  us  gave  them 
time  to  look  around  and  to  loot  the  vacant  houses  near 
them.  Not  content  with  this,  some  of  them  discovered 
that  a  large  number  of  buxom  Chinese  schoolgirls  from 
the  American  missions  were  lodged  but  a  stone's  throw 
from  their  barricades.  The  missionaries,  fearing  that 
some  scandal  might  occur,  had  placed  some  elderly  na- 
tive Christians  in  charge  of  the  schoolgirls,  with  the 
strictest  orders  to  prevent  any  one  from  entering  their 
retreat.  This  was  effective  for  some  time.  One  dark 
night,  however,  when  the  usual  fusillade  along  the  outer 
lines  began,  the  sailors  made  tremendous  preparations 
for  an  attack  which  they  said  was  bound  to  reach  them. 
At  eleven  o'clock  they  developed  the  threatened  attack 


176         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

by  emptying  a  warning  rifle  or  two  in  the  air.  Then 
warming  to  their  work,  and  with  their  dramatic  Slav 
imaginations  charmed  with  the  mise  en  scene,  they 
emptied  all  their  rifles  into  the  air.  Then  they  started 
firing  volley  after  volley  that  crashed  horribly  in  the 
narrow  lanes,  retreating  the  while  into  the  forbidden 
area.  Fiercely  fighting  their  imaginary  foe  they  fell 
back  slowly;  and  as  soon  as  the  elderly  native  converts 
had  sufficiently  realised  the  perils  to  which  they  were 
exposed,  these  cowardly  males  fled  hurriedly  through 
the  passageways  which  have  been  cut  into  the  British 
Legation.  The  sailors  then  placed  their  rifles  against 
a  wall  and  disappeared.  Unfortunately  for  them  a 
strong  guard  sent  to  investigate  this  unexpected  firing 
almost  immediately  appeared,  and  presently  the  sailors 
were  rescued,  some  with  much  scratched  faces.  The 
girls,  catlike,  had  known  how  to  protect  themselves ! 

The  next  day  there  was  a  terrible  scene,  which  every- 
body soon  heard  about.    Baron  von  R ,  the  Russian 

commander,  on  being  acquainted  with  the  facts  of  the 
affair,  swore  that  his  honour  and  the  honour  of  Russia 
demanded  that  the  culprits  be  shot.    I  shall  never  forget 

that  absurd  scene  when  R ,  who  speaks  the  vilest 

English,  demanded  with  terrible  gestures  that  the  ring- 
leaders be  identified  by  the  victims.  It  was  pointed  out 
to  him  that  the  affair  had  occurred  when  all  was  dark — 
that  the  whole  post  was  implicated — that  it  was  im- 
possible to  name  any  one  man.     Then  R swore  he 

would  shoot  the  whole  lot  of  them  as  a  lesson;  he  would 
not  tolerate  such  things.  But  the  very  next  day,  when  a 
notice  was  posted  on  the  bell-tower  of  the  British  Lega- 
tion forbidding  every  one  under  severe  penalties  to  ap- 
proach this  delectable  building,  R had  his  revanche 


SHELLS  AND  SORTIES  177 

a  la  Rmse,  as  he  called  it.  Taking  off  his  cap,  and  as- 
suming a  very  polite  air  of  doubt  and  perplexity,  he 
inquired  of  the  lady  missionary  committee  which  oversees 
the  welfare  of  these  girls,  "Pardon,  mesdames,"  he  said 
purposely  in  French,  "cette  afjiche  est-ce  settlement  pour 
les  chiles  ou  aussi  pour  les  militaires I" 


VII 

THE  HOSPITAL  AND  THE  GRAVEYARD 

5th  July,   1900. 


It  depends  very  much  on  moments  as  to  whether  one 
has  time  to  laugh  or  to  cry.    The  last  time  I  wrote,  we 
were  nearly  all  laughing — when  we  had  the  time ;  to-day 
most  of  us  are  doing  the  reverse.    Be  one  ever  so  hard- 
ened, it  is  impossible  to  go  to  the  humble  hospital  and 
the  little  graveyard  of  our  battered  lines  without  tender 
feelings  welling  up,  and  perhaps  even  a  silent  tear  drop- 
ping.   We  have  all  been  to  either  one  or  the  other  place 
to-day;  our  losses  are  mounting  up.     In  the  hospital 
alone  there  are  now  fifty  sorely  wounded  and  tortured 
men,  groaning  and  moving  this  way  and  that.     The 
bullet  and  shell  wounds  have  so  far  been  distinguished 
for  their  deadliness,  probably  because  of  the  close  ranges 
at  which  we  are  fighting.    It  is  a  strange  assembly,  in  all 
truth,  to  be  mustered  within  the  precincts  of  a  diplomatic 
Chancery,  wherein  were  prepared  only  a  few  short  weeks 
ago  dry-as-dust  documents,  which  so  hastened  the  storm 
by  not  promptly  arresting  it.     For  the  Chancery  of  the 
British  Legation  is  now  the  hospital,  and  on  despatch 
tables,  lately  littered  with  diplomatic  documents,  opera- 
tions are  now  almost  hourly  performed  and  muttered 
groans  wrung  from  maimed  men.    It  is  a  curious  thought 
this — to  think  that  the  vengeance  of  foolish  despatches 
overtakes  innocent  men  and  lays  them  groaning  and 
bleeding  on  the  very  spot  where  the  ink  which  framed 


THE  HOSPITAL  AND  THE  GRAVEYARD        179 

them  flowed.  It  does  not  often  happen  that  cause  and 
effect  meet  like  this. 

It  is  a  wretched  hospital,  too,  even  though  it  is  the  best 
which  can  be  made.  Every  window  has  to  be  bricked  in 
partially;  every  entrance  where  bullets  might  flick  in 
must  be  closed;  and  in  the  heat  and  dust  of  a  Peking 
summer  the  stench  is  terrible.  Worse  still  are  the  flies, 
which,  attracted  by  the  newly  spilt  blood  of  strong  men, 
swarm  so  thickly  that  another  torture  is  added.  Half 
the  nationalities  of  Europe  lie  groaning  together,  each 
calling  in  his  native  tongue  for  water,  or  for  help  to 
loosen  a  bandage  which  in  the  shimmering  heat  has 
become  unbearable.  And  as  the  rifle  cracking  rises  to 
the  storm  it  always  does  every  few  hours,  more  men 
will  be  brought  in  and  laid  on  that  gruesome  operating 
table.  The  very  passageways  have  been  already  in- 
vaded by  men  lying  on  long  chairs,  because  there  are  no 
more  beds.  Even  they  are  happy;  they  have  crept  to  a 
place  where  they  can  gasp  in  quiet;  that  is  all  they 
ask  for. 

In  a  hideous  little  room  at  the  back  the  dead  are  pre- 
pared for  their  last  resting  place — prepared  in  a  manner 
which  is  shocking,  but  is  the  best  that  can  be  done.  I 
cannot  describe  it.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening,  when 
perhaps  the  enemy's  fire  has  slackened  a  little,  and  the 
bullets  only  sob  very  faintly  overhead,  and  the  shells 
have  ceased  their  brutal  attentions,  stretcher  parties 
come  quietly  and  carry  out  the  corpses.  That  is  the 
worst  sight  of  all. 

There  are  no  coffins,  and  the  dead,  shrouded  in  white 
cloth,  have  sometimes  their  booted  feet  pushing  through 
the  coarse  fabric  in  which  they  are  sewn.  Never  shall  I 
forget  the  sight  of  one  man,  a  great,  long  fellow,  who 


180         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

seemed  immense  in  his  white  shroud.  A  movement  of 
the  bearers  struggling  under  his  unaccustomed  weight 
burst  his  winding  sheet,  and  his  feet  shot  out  as  if  he 
were  making  a  last  effort  to  escape  from  the  pitiless  grasp 
of  Mother  Earth  extending  her  arms  towards  him  in  the 
form  of  a  narrow  trench.  There  was  something  hideous 
and  terrible  in  these  booted  feet.  One  man,  unnerved 
at  the  sight,  gave  a  short  cry,  as  if  he  had  been  struck. 
That  is  the  brutal  side  of  life — death. 

There  is  also  no  room  and  not  time  to  give  each  one  a 
separate  grave,  these  our  dead;  and  so,  strapped  to  a 
plank,  they  are  lowered  into  the  ground,  a  few 
shovelfuls  of  earth  are  hastily  dropped  in  on  top,  and 
then  another  corpse  is  laid  down.  Sometimes  there  are 
three  or  four  in  a  single  grave,  and  when  the  grave  is 
filled  up  the  dead  men's  order  is  written  on  rough 
crosses.     That  is  all. 

At  such  burials  you  may  see  the  real  truth  which  is 
hidden  by  the  mask  of  every-day  life.  Men  you  thought 
were  good  fellows  turn  out  to  be  hearts  of  stone ;  the  true 
hearts  of  gold  are  generally  those  who  are  devil-may- 
care  and  indifferently  regarded  when  there  is  no  Sturm 
und  Drang.  I,  who  have  never  been  religious,  begin  to 
understand  what  such  phrases  mean — "that  many  are 
called,  but  few  are  chosen."  It  is  not  possible  that  the 
final  valuation  can  be  that  of  the  every-day  world. 
Then,  when  I  think  of  these  things,  I  long  to  get  away 
from  this  imprisonment;  to  revalue  things  in  a  new  light; 
to  see  and  to  understand. 

But  as  you  pass  away  from  this  torture  room  and  this 
execution  ground  a  sullen  anger  seizes  you.  Why  should 
so  many  be  called — why  should  we  die  thus  in  a 
hole?  .   .  . 


VIII 

THE   FAILURE 

6th  July,  1900. 


I  have  always  found  that  there  is  a  corrective  for 
everything  in  this  world.  Action  is  the  best  one  of  all, 
people  say.    It  is  not  always  so. 

The  little  Japanese  colonel  stood  this  morning  pulling 
his  thin  moustaches  very  thoughtfully  and  looking 
earnestly  ahead  of  him  when  I  came  on  duty  with  a 
dozen  others.  In  front  was  a  great  mass  of  ruins,  con- 
cealing a  couple  of  entrenched  posts  of  our  own  men, 
where  I  was  going,  and  farther  on,  half  masked  by  the 
ruins,  some  of  the  enemy's  advanced  barricades  lay. 

"I  think,"  said  the  colonel  finally,  pronouncing  on  the 
situation  with  inherited  Japanese  caution,  "that  it  will 
be  very  difficult,  but  we  must  try." 

He  referred  to  the  wretched  Chinese  gun  belonging  to 
the  redoubtable  Tung  Fu-hsiang,  as  we  had  discovered 
from  big  banners  pitched  near  by,  which  had  been 
steadily  and  methodically  smashing  in  the  northern 
front  of  our  defence,  and  was  fast  rendering  our  lines 
untenable  here.  We  always  went  on  duty  at  these  posts 
with  little  enthusiasm.  We  could  not  hit  back.  Another 
gun,  a  newcomer,  had  also  been  posted  somewhere  near 
the  ruins  of  the  Chinese  Customs,  as  if  encouraged  by 
the  success  of  the  other  one,  and  was  now  playing  on 
the  main-gate  posts  of  the  Su  wang-fu,  and  rendering 


182         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

even  these  more  and  more  dangerous  for  us  to  hold 
permanently. 

The  newcomer  was,  however,  still,  comparatively 
speaking,  far  away;  it  was  our  old  friend  we  most 
dreaded.  Well  hidden,  it  pelted  us  with  rusty  but  effec- 
tive shells  night  and  day.  To  make  another  sortie  was 
highly  dangerous,  for  the  ill-success  of  the  first  one  in 
this  quarter  had  certainly  encouraged  the  Chinese,  and 
this  time  we  would  have  to  be  prepared  for  a  very  vigor- 
ous defence,  which  might  bring  on  a  series  of  counter- 
attacks. Then,  too,  the  wall-split  and  barricaded 
grounds  beyond  our  own  feeble  defences  meant  that  a 
single  false  step  would  lead  us  into  an  impasse  from 
which  we  could  not  lightly  escape.  Rifle-fire  would  pelt 
us  at  close  quarters,  shells  would  burst  right  in  our  midst; 
it  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect  even  for  the  biggest  fire- 
eaters  of  our  lines.  We  had,  however,  to  remember  that 
so  long  as  we  held  firm  on  the  outer  rim  of  our  ruins 
would  the  enormous  piles  of  brickwork  which  lie  around, 
either  in  the  form  of  ruined  houses  or  wrecked  com- 
pound walls,  act  as  traverses  and  make  the  heavy  rifle 
and  cannon  fire  being  poured  in  nothing  very  terrible. 
But  as  soon  as  we  are  forced  to  abandon  our  advanced 
lines  the  enemy  speedily  will  swarm  in,  and  then  no 
sortie,  however  well  planned,  can  dislodge  him.  He 
will  make  our  best  defences  his  parallels — and  in  a  week 
he  will  be  able  to  split  us  in  half.  These  things  made 
immediate  action  really  advisable,  and  soon  the  word 
was  passed  round  that  a  big  sortie  was  to  be  made  at 
once. 

Once  more  all  the  morning  was  spent  in  making  prep- 
arations. Marines  and  volunteer  reserves  were  brought 
over  from  the  British  Legation  to  line  the  trenches  and 


THE  FAILURE  183 

barricades,  and  cover  the  advance  with  a  heavy  rifle  fire; 
the  Italians,  who  were  to  co-operate  by  jumping  down 
off  their  northwestern  hillock  and  rushing  forward,  were 
warned  for  duty,  and  had  fresh  ammunition  served  out 
to  them ;  and  finally  volunteers  were  called  for,  and  the 
command  of  the  sortie  handed  over  to  a  Japanese  officer, 
Captain  A . 

When  everything  was  ready,  we  stood  for  a  minute 
massed  together  while  some  parting  instructions  were 
given.  We  presented  a  curious  and  unique  spectacle. 
There  were  fifteen  Japanese  sailors  in  the  dirty  remains 
of  their  blue  uniforms,  without  caps  or  jumpers,  with 
broken  boots  and  begrimed  faces;  and  alongside  of  them 
were  twenty-five  miscellaneous  volunteers,  some  with 
bayonets  to  their  rifles,  some  with  none — but  all  deter- 
mined to  get  home  on  the  enemy  at  all  costs  this  time. 
There  had  been  sixteen  days'  incessant  work  at  the 
trenches  and  barricades  with  next  to  no  sleep.  Mud  and 
brickwork  clung  to  us  all  with  an  insistence  which  no 
amount  of  rough  dusting  would  remove.  We  were  a 
tattered  and  disreputable  crowd. 

There  was  little  time  to  reflect  or  to  cast  one's  eyes 
around,  however,  for  no  sooner  had  Captain  A re- 
ceived his  last  instructions  than  his  bugler  sounded  the 
charge,  and  from  the  Italian  lines,  eight  hundred  feet 
away,  which  were  hidden  from  us  by  walls  and  trees, 
came  an  answering  blast.  The  Italians  were  ready.  I 
gripped  my  rifle  and  took  the  flank  of  my  detachment. 

We  tumbled  forward  in  silence,  forty  effectives  in  all, 
with  a  couple  dozen  native  converts  behind  us,  who 
had  been  provided  with  some  of  the  captured  rifles  and 

swords.     As  soon  as  we  were  clear,   Captain  A , 

who  was  a  tiny  man,  even  among  a  tiny  race,  drew  a 


184         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

little  sword,  and  pointing  to  the  enemy's  barricades  now 
looming  up  very  close,  ordered  his  bugler  to  sound  the 
charge  once  more.  The  notes  ripped  out,  and  giving 
a  mixed  attempt  at  a  European  cheer,  we  quickened  our 
pace,  running  as  rapidly  as  we  could  over  the  rubbish 
which  covered  the  ground  and  taking  advantage  of 
every  piece  of  cover.  A  few  stray  shots  pecked  at  us, 
but  in  this  quarter,  so  strange  that  it  appeared  unreal, 
the  enemy  gave  hardly  a  sign  of  life.  Behind  us,  on 
our  left,  a  tremendous  fusillade  was  in  progress,  and  the 
cracking  of  the  rifles  came  back  to  us  in  one  high-pitched 
roar.  But  the  intervening  trees  and  the  ruins  did  not 
allow  us  to  see  or  understand  what  was  the  cause.  We 
had  completely  lost  touch  with  the  others. 

Rushing  round  a  corner,  we  suddenly  came  on  the  gun 
we  had  been  sent  to  capture;  it  was  perched  high  on  a 
long,  loopholed  barricade,  and  stood  quite  silent  and 
alone.  We  gave  a  shout  and  pitched  forward  in  a 
momentary  ecstasy  of  delight,  but  like  a  flash  the  scene 
around  us  changed.  Dozens  of  soldiers  jumped  up 
around  us,  looking  every  bit  like  startled  pheasants  in 
their  bright  uniforms,  and  retired,  firing  rapidly.  This, 
as  if  a  preconcerted  plan,  was  the  signal  for  a  tremen- 
dous fire  on  all  sides,  which  absolutely  surprised  us. 
From  every  adjacent  ruin  and  roof  the  enemy  appeared 
by  magic,  and  fired  at  us  with  ever-increasing  vigour. 
Now  just  above  us  the  selfsame  gun  which  had  de- 
molished my  outpost  house  a  few  days  before  loomed 
invitingly,  and  determined  to  have  our  revenge  and  stick 
the  gunners  like  pigs  if  we  could  only  get  to  grips,  a 
knot  of  us  ran  on.  The  bugler  blew  a  few  sharp  notes 
to  rally  some  of  those  who  were  hanging  back  in  con- 
fusion, and  finally,  riflemen  in  advance  and  the  converts 


THE  FAILURE  185 

herded  tremblingly  behind  by  a  brave  Japanese  Secretary 
of  Legation  in  spectacles,  we  succeeded  in  climbing  up 
on  to  the  gun  platform.  The  gunners,  who  had  been 
lying  beside  their  weapon,  fled  precipitately  as  soon  as 
they  saw  our  heads  come  over  the  barricade,  but  to  our 
right  and  left  the  enemy  was  now  swarming  forward 
with  frantic  yells.  The  converts,  who  were  to  drag  off 
the  gun  while  we  covered  them  with  our  rifles  and 
bayonets,  could  not  be  made  to  advance,  but  clung  to  the 
walls  screaming  piteously.  We  beat  some  of  them  over 
the  head  with  our  rifle-butts  and  kicked  them  savagely 
in  a  fever  of  anxiety  to  put  some  spirit  in  them,  but 
nothing  could  move  them  forward.  It  must  be  always 
so ;  the  Christian  Chinaman  face  to  face  with  his  fierce, 
heathen  countrymen  is  as  a  lamb ;  he  cannot  fight.  Then 
before  we  knew  it  the  little  Japanese  captain  was  on  the 
ground,  two  or  three  Japanese  sailors  fell  too,  a  sauve 
qui  pent  began,  and  everything  was  in  inextricable  dis- 
order. The  Chinese  commanders,  seeing  our  plight, 
urged  their  men  forward,  and  soon  hundreds  of  rifles 
were  crashing  at  us,  and  savage-looking  men  in  brightly 
coloured  tunics  and  their  red  trouser-covers  swinging  in 
the  breeze  leaped  forward  on  us.  It  was  a  terrible  sight. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  retire,  which  we  did, 
dragging  in  our  wounded  with  brutal  energy.  At  a 
ruined  wall,  half  a  dozen  of  us  made  a  stand,  covering 
the  retreat,  which  had  degenerated  into  a  rout,  and, 
firing  steadily  at  a  close  range,  we  dropped  man  after 
man.  Some  of  the  Kansu  soldiers  rushed  right  up  to  us, 
and  only  fell  a  few  feet  from  our  rifles,  yelling,  "Sha, 
Sha," — kill,  kill,  to  the  last  moment;  and  one  fellow, 
as  he  was  beaten  down,  threw  a  sword,  which  stabbed 
one  of  our  men  in  the  thigh  and  terribly  wounded  him. 


186         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

It  must  have  been  all  over  in  a  very  few  minutes,  for 
the  next  thing  I  remember  is  that  we  were  all  inside  our 
lines  again,  and  that  my  knees  were  bleeding  profusely 
from  the  scrambling  over  barricades  and  ruins.  We 
were  completely  out  of  breath  from  the  excitement  and 
the  running,  and  most  of  us  were  crimson  with  rage  at 
our  ill-success  when  we  had  practically  had  everything  in 
our  own  hands.  Every  one  was  for  shooting  a  convert 
or  two  as  an  example  for  the  rest,  but  in  the  end  it  came 
to  nothing.  Meanwhile  the  fusillade  against  us  grew 
enormously  in  vigour.  From  every  side  bullets  flicked 
in  huge  droves.  The  Chinese,  as  if  incensed  at  our 
enterprise,  strove  to  repay  us  by  pelting  us  unmercifully, 
and  awakened  into  action  by  this  persistent  firing,  the 
roar  of  musketry  and  cannon  soon  extended  to  every 
side  until  it  crashed  with  unexampled  fury.  Messages 
came  from  half  a  dozen  quarters  for  the  reserves  to 
be  sent  back,  and  in  the  hurry  and  general  confusion 
we  could  not  learn  what  had  happened  to  the  Italians 
or  the  rest  of  the  enterprise. 

Meanwhile  our  wounded  were  lying  on  the  ground,  and 
the  news  soon  spread  that  the  Japanese  surgeon  had  pro- 
nounced the  little  captain's  case  hopeless.  I  went  to  see 
him  as  soon  as  I  could,  and  seldom  have  I  seen  a  more 
pitiful  sight.  Lying  on  a  coat  thrown  on  the  ground, 
with  his  side  torn  open  by  an  iron  bullet,  the  stricken 
man  looked  like  a  child  who  had  met  with  a  terrible 
accident.  He  could  not  have  been  more  than  five  feet 
high,  and  his  sword,  which  was  a  tiny  blade,  about  thirty 
inches  long,  was  strapped  to  his  wrist  by  a  cord,  which 
he  refused  to  have  released.  Beating  his  arms  up  and 
down  in  the  air  with  that  tiny  sword  bobbing  with  them, 
he  struggled  to  master  the  pain,  but  the  effort  was  too 


THE  FAILURE  187 

great  for  him,  and  he  kept  moaning  in  spite  of  himself. 
A  few  feet  from  him  sat  a  wounded  Japanese  sailor, 
who  had  been  struck  in  the  knee  by  a  soft-nosed  bullet. 
His  trousers  had  been  ripped  up  to  put  on  a  field  dress- 
ing, and  never  have  I  before  seen  a  more  ghastly  wound. 
The  bullet  had  drilled  into  his  knee-cap  in  a  neat  little 
hole,  but  the  soft  metal,  striking  the  bony  substance 
within,  had  splashed  as  it  progressed  through,  with  the 
result  that  the  hole  made  on  coming  out  was  as  big  as 
the  knee-cap  itself.  The  sailor  bore  his  wound  with  a 
stoicism  which  seemed  to  me  superhuman.  The  sweat 
was  pouring  off  his  face  in  his  agony,  but  he  had  stuffed 
a  cap  into  his  mouth  so  that  he  might  not  disgrace  him- 
self by  crying  out,  and  even  in  his  agony  he  lay  perfectly 
still,  with  staring  eyes,  as  he  waited  to  be  carried  to 
the  operating  table. 

Presently  the  captain  died  with  a  sudden  stiffening,  and 
news  came  in  from  a  number  of  other  posts  that  men 
were  falling,  and  we  must  detach  some  of  ours  to  rein- 
force threatened  points.  In  utter  gloom  the  day  ended, 
and  miserably  tired,  we  got  hardly  any  sleep  until  the 
small  hours. 


IX 

AN   INTERLUDE 

8th  July,    1900. 


And  yet  in  spite  of  such  things  there  are  plenty  of 
interludes.  For  of  the  nine  hundred  and  more  European 
men,  women  and  children  besieged  in  the  Legation  lines, 
many  are  playing  no  part  at  all.  There  are,  of  course, 
some  four  hundred  marines  and  sailors,  and  more  than 
two  hundred  women  and  children.  The  first  are 
naturally  ranged  in  the  fighting  line;  the  second  can  be 
but  non-combatants.  But  of  the  remainder,  two  hun- 
dred and  more  of  whom  are  able-bodied,  most  are  shirk- 
ing. There  are  less  than  eighty  taking  an  active  part 
in  the  defence — the  eighty  being  all  young  men.  The 
others  have  claimed  the  right  of  sanctuary,  and  will  do 
nothing.  At  most  they  have  been  induced  to  form 
themselves  into  a  last  reserve,  which,  I  hope,  may  never 

be  employed.     If  it  is The  duties  of  this  reserve 

consist  in  mustering  round  the  clanging  bell  of  the 
Jubilee  Tower  in  the  British  Legation  when  a  general 
alarm  is  rung.  When  the  firing  becomes  very  heavy  that 
bell  begins  clanging. 

There  was  a  general  alarm  the  other  night  when  I 
happened  to  be  off  duty,  and  I  stopped  in  front  of  the 
bell-tower  to  see  it  all.  The  last  reserve  tumbled  from 
their  sleeping-places  in  various  stages  of  deshabille,  all 
talking  excitedly.     The  women  had  too  much  sense  to 


AN  INTERLUDE  189 

move  a  great  deal,  although  the  alarm  might  be  a  signal 
for  anything.  A  few  of  them  got  up,  too,  and  came  out 
into  the  open;  but  the  majority  stayed  where  they  were. 
Presently  the  commander-in-chief  appeared  in  person  in 
his  pyjamas,  twirling  his  moustaches,  and  listened  to 
the  increasing  fusillade  and  cannonade  directed  against 
the  outposts.  The  din  and  roar,  judged  by  the  din  and 
roar  of  every-day  life,  may  have  been  nerve-breaking,, 
but  to  any  one  who  had  been  so  close  to  it  for  eighteen 
days  it  was  nothing  exceptional.  The  night  attack, 
which  had  been  heralded  after  the  usual  manner  by  a 
fierce  blowing  of  trumpets,  simply  meant  thousands  of 
rifles  crashing  off  together,  and  as  far  as  the  British 
Legation  was  concerned,  you  might  stand  just  as  safely 
there  as  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens  or  in  Piccadilly. 
There  was  a  tremendous  noise,  and  swarms  of  bullets 
passing  overhead,  but  that  was  all.  The  time  had  not 
arrived  for  actual  assaults  to  be  delivered;  there  was 
too  much  open  ground  to  be  covered. 

The  groups  of  reserves  stood  and  listened  in  awe,  the 
commander-in-chief  twirled  his  moustaches  with  com- 
posure, and  two  or  three  other  refugee  Plenipotentiaries 
slipped  out  and  nervously  waited  the  upshot  of  it  all. 
It  was  a  very  curious  scene.  Well,  the  fusillade  soon 
reached  the  limit  of  its  crescendo,  and  then  with  de- 
lighted sighs,  the  diminuendo  could  plainly  be  divined. 
The  Chinese  riflemen,  having  blazed  off  many  rounds 
of  ammunition,  and  finding  their  rifle  barrels  uncom- 
fortably warm,  were  plainly  pulling  them  out  of  their 
loopholes  and  leaning  them  up  against  the  barricades. 
The  diminuendo  became  more  and  more  marked,  and 
finally,  except  for  the  usual  snipers'  shots,  all  was  over. 
So  the  reserves  were  dismissed  and  went  contentedly  off 


190         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

to  bed.  As  far  as  the  actual  defence  was  concerned, 
this  comedy  might  have  been  left  unplayed.  In  the 
dense  gloom  those  men  could  never  have  been  moved 
anywhere.  Such  a  manoeuvre  would  have  brought 
about  a  panic  at  once,  for  there  is  little  mutual  confi- 
dence, and  nothing  has  been  done  to  promote  it. 

At  first,  in  the  hurry  and  scurry  and  confusion  of  the 
initial  attacks,  when  everything  and  everybody  was  un- 
prepared and  upset,  this  state  of  things  escaped  atten- 
tion. Now  all  the  fighting  line  is  becoming  openly 
discontented.  There  is  favouritism  and  incompetency 
in  everything  that  is  being  done.  Two  days  ago  a 
young  Scotch  volunteer  got  killed  almost  on  purpose, 
because  he  was  sick  and  tired  of  the  cowardice  and 
indecision.  And  now,  not  content  with  all  this,  there 
is  a  new  folly.     An  alleged  searchlight  has  been  seen 

flickering  on  the  skies  at  night,  and  M ,  the  British 

Minister,  has  in  a  burst  of  optimism  declared  that  it  is 

the  relief  under  S signalling  to  us.     Yet  there 

are  men  who  know  exactly  what  it  is — the  opening  of 
the  doors  of  a  blast-furnace  in  the  Chinese  city,  which 
sends  up  a  ruddy  light  in  certain  weather. 

Discipline  is  becoming  bad,  too,  and  sailors  and  vol- 
unteers off  duty  are  looting  the  few  foreign  stores  en- 
closed in  our  lines.  Everything  is  being  taken,  and  the 
native  Christians,  finding  this  out,  have  been  pouring  in 
in  bands  when  the  firing  ceases  and  wrecking  everything 
which  they  cannot  carry  away. 

A  German  marine  killed  one,  and  several  have  been 
dangerously  wounded.  In  our  present  condition  any- 
thing is  possible.  Still,  the  fortification  work  is  proceed- 
ing steadily,  and  the  appearance  of  the  base,  the  British 
Legation,  has  been  miraculously  changed.     Enormous 


AN  INTERLUDE  191 

quantities  of  sandbags  have  been  turned  out  and  placed 
in  position,  and  all  the  walls  are  now  loopholed.  With 
all  this  access  of  strength,  we  are  much  more  secure, 
and  yet  our  best  contingents  are  being  very  slowly  but 
very  continuously  shot  to  pieces.  Our  casualty  list  is 
now  well  into  the  second  hundred,  and  as  the  line  of 
defenders  thins,  the  men  are  becoming  more  savage.  In 
addition  to  looting,  there  have  been  a  number  of  attempts 
on  the  native  girl  converts,  which  have  been  hushed 
up.  .  .  .  Ugly  signs  are  everywhere,  and  the  position 
becomes  from  day  to  day  less  enviable. 


X 

THE    GUNS 

I  oth  July,  1900. 

Had  we  a  single  gun  how  different  it  would  be !  We 
could  parade  it  boldly  under  the  enemy's  nose;  sweep  his 
barricades  and  his  advanced  lines  away  in  a  cloud  of 
dust  and  brick-chips;  bombard  his  camps  which  we  have 
located;  make  him  sorry  and  ashamed  ...  as  it  is  we 
can  do  nothing;  we  have  not  a  single  piece  which  can  be 
called  serious  artillery;  and  we  must  suffer  the  segment 
which  the  enemy  affects  in  almost  complete  silence.  Lis- 
ten to  our  list  of  weapons. 

First,  there  is  the  Italian  one-pounder  firing  ballistite. 
It  is  absolutely  useless.  Its  snapping  shells  are  so 
small  that  you  can  thrust  them  in  your  pocket  with- 
out noticing  them.  This  gun  is  merely  a  plaything. 
And  yet  being  the  best  we  have,  it  is  wheeled  unendingly 
around  and  fired  at  the  enemy  from  a  dozen  different 
points.  It  may  give  confidence,  but  that  is  all  it  can 
give.  The  other  day  I  watched  it  at  work  on  a  heavy 
barricade  being  constructed  by  night  and  day  by  the 
methodical  enemy.  By  night  the  Chinese  soldiery  work 
as  openly  as  they  please,  for  no  outpost  may  waste  its 
ammunition  by  indiscriminate  shooting.  But  during 
the  day,  orders  or  no  orders,  it  has  become  rash  for  the 
enemy  to  expose  himself  to  our  view;  and  even  the  fleet- 
ing glimpse  of  a  moving  hand  is  made  the  excuse  for  a 


THE  GUNS  193 

hailstorm  of  fire.  This  has  made  excessive  caution  the 
order  of  the  day,  and  you  can  almost  believe,  when  no 
rifles  are  firing  to  disturb  such  a  conviction,  that  there 
are  only  dead  men  round  us.  Yet  with  nothing  to  be 
seen,  countless  hands  are  at  work;  in  spite  of  the  greatest 
vigilance  barricades  and  barriers  grow  up  nearer  and 
nearer  to  us  both  night  and  day;  we  are  being  tied  in 
tighter.  These  mysterious  barricades,  built  in  parallels, 
are  so  cunningly  constructed  that  our  fiercest  sorties 
must  in  the  end  beat  themselves  to  pieces  against  brick 
and  stone;  if  the  enemy  can  complete  his  plans  we  shall 
be  choked  silently.  That  is  why  the  Italian  gun  is  so 
often  requisitioned. 

I  was  saying  that  I  watched  the  one-pounder  at  work 
against  the  enemy's  brick-bound  lines.  Each  time,  as 
ammunition  is  becoming  precious,  the  gun  was  more  care- 
fully sighted  and  fired,  and  each  time,  with  a  little 
crash,  the  baby  shell  shot  through  the  barricades,  boring 
a  ragged  hole  six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter.  Two  or 
three  times  this  might  always  be  accomplished  with 
everything  on  the  Chinese  side  silent  as  death.  The  cun- 
ning enemy!  Then  suddenly,  as  the  gun  was  shifted  a 
bit  to  continue  the  work  of  ripping  up  that  barricade, 
attention  would  be  distracted,  and  before  you  could  ex- 
plain it  the  ragged  holes  would  be  no  more.  Unseen 
hands  had  repaired  the  damage  by  pushing  up  dozens  of 
bricks  and  sandbags,  and  before  the  game  could  be 
opened  again,  unseen  rifles  were  rolling  off  in  their 
dozens  and  tearing  the  crests  of  our  outworks.  In  that 
storm  of  brick-chips,  split  sandbags  and  dented  nickel, 
you  could  not  move  or  reply.     That  is  the  Italian  gun. 

The  next  most  useful  weapon  should  be  the  Austrian 
machine-gun,    which   is   a   very   modern    weapon,    and 


194         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

throws  Mannlicher  bullets  at  the  rate  of  six  hundred  to 
the  minute.  Yet  it,  too,  is  practically  useless.  It  has 
been  tried  everywhere  and  found  to  be  defective.  When 
it  rattles  at  full  speed,  it  has  been  seen  that  its  sighting 
is  illusory — that  it  throws  erratically  high  in  the  air, 
and  that  ammunition  is  simply  wasted.  It  cannot  help 
us  in  the  slightest.  The  value  of  machine-guns  has  been 
always  overrated. 

Then  there  is  a  Nordenfeldt  belonging  to  the  British 
marines,  and  a  very  small  Colt,  which  was  brought  up  by 
the  Americans.  The  Nordenfeldt  is  absolutely  useless 
and  now  refuses  to  work;  the  Colt  is  so  small,  being 
single-barrelled,  that  it  can  only  do  boy's  work.  Yet  this 
Colt  is  the  most  satisfactory  of  all,  and  when  we  have 
dragged  it  out  with  us  and  played  it  on  the  enemy,  it  has 
shot  true  and  straight.  They  say  it  has  killed  more  men 
than  all  the  rest  put  together.   .   .   . 

There  should  be  a  Russian  gun,  too — a  good  Russian 
gun  of  respectable  calibre.  But  although  the  shells  were 
brought,  a  thousand  of  them,  too,  the  gun  was  forgotten 
at  the  Tientsin  Station  !  Such  a  thing  could  only  happen 
to  Russians,  everybody  says.     But  some  people  say  it 

was    forgotten    on   purpose,    because    De    G had 

received  absolute  assurance  from  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment that  the  Russian  Legation  would  not  be  attacked 
under  any  circumstances,  and  that  sailors  were  only 
brought  up  to  keep  faith  with  the  other  Powers.   .   .  . 

This  miserable  list,  as  you  will  see,  means  that  we  have 
nothing  with  which  to  reply  to  the  enemy's  fire.  We 
are  not  so  proud  and  foolish  as  to  wish  to  silence  the 
guns  ranged  against  us,  but,  at  least,  we  should  be  able 
to  make  some  reply.  In  desperation,  the  sailor-gunners 
tried  to  manufacture  a  crude  piece  of  ordnance  by  lash- 


THE  GUNS  195 

ing  iron  and  steel  together,  and  encasing  it  in  wood. 
Fortunately  it  was  never  fired,  for  in  the  nick  of  time 
an  old  rusty  muzzle-loader  has  been  discovered  in  a 
blacksmith's  shop  within  our  lines,  and  has  been  made  to 
fire  the  Russian  ammunition  by  the  exercise  of  much  in- 
genuity. It  belches  forth  mainly  flames,  and  smokes  and 
makes  a  terrific  report.  Some  say  this  is  as  useful  as  a 
modern  twelve-pounder.    .    .    . 

About  the  Chinese  guns  we  can  find  out  very  little, 
excepting  that  none,  or  very  few,  of  the  modern  weapons 
which  are  in  stock  at  Peking  have  been  used  against  us. 
There  are  at  most  only  nine  or  ten  in  constant  use;  per- 
haps the  others  have  been  dragged  away  down  the  long 
Tientsin  road.  But  even  these  nine  or  ten,  if  they  were 
worked  together,  would  nearly  wreck  us.  Our  sorties 
have  pushed  some  of  them  back. 

Two  of  these  guns  are  being  fired  at  us  from  a  staging 
on  the  Palace  wall — sometimes  regularly  and  persist- 
ently, sometimes  as  if  they  had  fallen  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  conflicting  factors  which  are  struggling  to 
win  the  day  in  the  Palace.  If  they  bombarded  us  with- 
out intermission  for  twenty-four  hours,  they  would  ren- 
der the  British  Legation  almost  untenable.  Two  or 
three  more  guns  are  on  the  Tartar  Wall;  three  or  four 
are  ranged  against  the  Su  wang-fu  and  French  lines; 
some  are  kept  travelling  round  us  searching  for  a  weak 
spot.  They  have  no  system  or  fire-discipline.  Some  use 
shrapnel  and  segment;  others  fire  solid  round  shot  all 
covered  with  rust.  Silent  sometimes  with  a  mysterious 
silence  for  days  at  a  time,  they  come  to  life  again  sud- 
denly in  a  blaze  of  activity,  and  wreak  more  ruin  in  a 
few  minutes  than  weeks  of  rifle  fusillade  and  days  of  fir- 
ing on  the  fringe  of  outer  buildings.    And  yet  we  cannot 


196         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

complain.  We  have  so  many  walls,  so  many  houses, 
so  many  trees,  so  many  obstructions  of  every  kind,  that 
they  cannot  get  a  clear  view  of  anything.  These  sing- 
ing shells,  which  might  breach  any  one  part,  were  the 
guns  massed  and  their  fire  continuous,  are  sneered  at  by 
most  of  us  already.  Provided  you  can  lie  low,  shell-fire 
soon  loses  even  its  moral  effect. 


XI 

SNIPING 


The  siege  has  now  become  such  a  regular  business 
with  every  one  that  there  are  almost  rules  and  regula- 
tions, which,  if  not  promulgated  among  besieged  and 
besiegers,  are,  at  least,  more  or  less  understood  things. 
Thus,  for  instance,  after  one  or  two  in  the  morning  the 
crashing  of  rifles  around  us  is  always  quite  stilled;  the 
gunners  have  long  ceased  paying  us  their  attentions, 
and  a  certain  placid  calmness  comes  over  all.  The  moon 
may  then  be  aloft  in  the  skies;  and  if  it  is,  the  Tartar 
Wall  stands  out  clear  and  black,  while  the  ruined  en- 
trenchments about  us  are  flooded  in  a  silver  light  which 
makes  the  sordidness  of  our  surroundings  instantly  dis- 
appear in  the  enchantment  of  night.  Our  little  world  is 
tired;  we  have  all  had  enough;  and  even  though  they 
may  run  the  risk  of  being  court-martialled,  it  is  always 
fairly  certain  that  by  three  or  four  in  the  morning  half 
the  outposts  and  the  picquets  will  be  dead  asleep.  It 
was  not  like  that  in  the  beginning,  for  then  nobody 
slept  much  night  or  day;  and  if  one  did,  it  was  only 
to  awake  with  a  moan,  the  result  of  some  weird  night- 
mare. 

Now  with  the  weeks  which  have  gone  by  since  we 
broke  off  relations  with  the  rest  of  the  world  it  is  quite 
different,  and  we  pander  to  our  little  weakness  of  forty 
winks  before  a  loophole,  although  orderly  officers  may 
stumble  by  all  night  on  their  rounds  and  curse  and  swear 


198         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

at  this  state  of  affairs.  By  training  yourself,  however, 
I  have  found  that  you  can  practically  sleep  like  a  dog, 
with  one  eye  open  and  both  ears  on  the  alert — that  light 
slumber  which  the  faintest  stirring  immediately  breaks; 
when  you  are  like  this  you  can  do  your  duty  at  a 
loophole. 

It  is  such  dull  work,  too,  in  front  of  the  eternal  loop- 
holes, with  nothing  but  darkness  and  thick  shadows 
around  you,  and  the  rest  of  a  post  of  four  or  five  men 
vigorously  snoring.  The  first  half  hour  goes  fairly 
quickly,  and,  perhaps,  even  the  second;  but  the  last  hour 
is  dreary,  tiresome  work.  And  when  your  two  hours  are 
up,  and  contentedly  you  kick  your  relief  on  the  ground 
beside  you,  he  only  moans  faintly,  but  does  not  stir. 
Dead  with  sleep  is  he.  Then  you  kick  him  again  with 
all  that  zest  which  comes  from  a  sense  of  your  own  lost 
slumbers,  and  once  more  he  moans  in  his  fatigue,  more 
loudly  this  time,  but  still  he  does  not  move. 

Finally,  in  angry  despair  you  land  the  butt  of  your  rifle 
brutally  on  his  chest,  and  he  will  start  up  with  a  cry  or 
an  oath. 

"Time,"  you  mutter.  The  relief  grumblingly  rises  to 
his  feet,  rubbing  his  glued  eyes  violently,  and  asks  you  if 
there  is  anything.  "Nothing,"  you  answer  curtly.  It  is 
always  nothing,  for  although  the  enemy's  barricades 
rear  themselves  perhaps  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  from  where  you  stand,  you  know  that  it  takes  a  lusty 
stomach  to  rush  that  distance  and  climb  your  fortifica- 
tions and  ditches  in  the  dark  in  the  face  of  the  furious  fire 
which  sooner  or  later  would  burst  out.  For  we  under- 
stand our  work  now.  Experience  is  the  only  school- 
master. 

So  with  your  two  hours  on  and  your  four  hours  off  the 


SNIPING  199 

night  spends  itself  and  dawn  blushes  in  the  skies.  It  is 
in  all  truth  weary  work,  those  long  watches  of  the 
night.  .  .  .  Sometimes  even  your  four  hours'  sleeping 
time  is  rudely  broken  into  by  half  a  dozen  alarms;  for 
separated  sometimes  by  hundreds  of  feet  from  your 
comrades  of  the  next  post,  the  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion makes  you  line  your  loopholes  and  peer  anxiously 
into  the  gloom  beyond,  when  any  one  of  the  enemy 
shows  that  he  is  afoot.  A  single  rifle-shot  spitting  off 
near  by  is  as  often  as  not  the  cause  of  the  alarm;  for 
that  rifle-shot  cracking  out  discordantly  and  awakening 
the  echoes  may  be  the  signal  for  the  dread  rush  which 
would  spell  the  beginning  of  the  end.  Once  one  line  is 
broken  into  we  know  instinctively  that  the  confusion 
which  would  follow  would  engulf  us  all.  There  is  no 
confidence.  .    .    . 

When  you  have  time  you  may  relieve  this  monotony 
by  sniping. 

In  the  early  morning,  the  very  early  morning,  is  the 
time  for  this  work — say,  roughly,  between  the  hours  of 
four  and  six,  when  the  soldier  Chinaman  beyond  our 
lines  is  yawningly  arousing  himself  from  his  slumbers 
and  squats  blinking  and  inattentive  before  his  morning 
tea.  Then  if  you  are  a  natural  hunter,  are  inclined  to 
risk  a  good  deal,  and  something  of  a  quick  shot,  you 
may  have  splendid  chances  which  teach  you  more  than 
you  could  ever  learn  by  months  in  front  of  targets. 
Baron  von  R ,  the  cynical  commander  of  the  Rus- 
sian detachment,  is  the  crack  sniper  of  us  all,  because  he 
has  not  a  great  deal  to  do  in  the  daytime,  and,  also,  be- 
cause beyond  his  lines  of  the  Russian  Legation  all  is  gen- 
erally quiet  with  a  curious  and  suggestive  quietness.  At 
four  in  the  morning  R ,  with  his  sailor's  habits,  gen- 


200         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

erally  rises,  shakes  himself  like  a  dog,  lights  his  eternal 
Russian  cigarette,  takes  a  few  whiffs,  and  then  sallies 
forth  with  a  Mannlicher  carbine  and  a  clip  of  five  car- 
tridges. His  sailors  are  duly  warned  to  cover  him  if  he 
has  to  retire  in  disorder,  but  so  far  he  has  met  with  no 
mishap.  Cautiously  pushing  out  beyond  his  barricades, 
he  climbs  a  ruined  wall,  reaches  the  top  and  buries  him- 
self in  the  dust  in  pleasant  anticipation  of  what  will 
follow. 

Presently  he  is  rewarded.  A  Chinese  brave  comes  out 
into  the  open,  selects  a  corner,  and  sits  down  to  smoke 
under  cover  of  a  barricade.  The  Baron  pushes  his  clip 
of  cartridges  deliberately  into  the  magazine,  shoots  one 
into  the  rifle  barrel  through  the  feed,  and  then  very  cau- 
tiously and  very  slowly  draws  a  steady  bead  on  the  man. 
I  have  seen  him  at  work.  Five  seconds  may  go  by,  per- 
haps even  ten,  for  the  Baron  allows  himself  only  one 
shot  in  each  case,  and  then  bang !  the  bullet  speeds  on  its 
way,  and  the  Chinaman  rolls  over  bored  through  and 
through.  On  a  good  day  the  bag  may  be  two  or  three ; 
on  a  bad  day  the  Russian  commander  returns  with  his 
five  cartridges  intact  and  a  persistent  Russian  shrug,  for 
he  never  fires  in  vain,  and  there  are  certain  canons  in 
this  sport  which  he  does  not  care  to  violate  lightly. 

Myself,  enamoured  with  this  game,  after  I  had 
watched  the  Russian  commander  two  mornings,  I,  too, 
determined  that  I  would  embark  on  it,  although  I  have 
no  such  leisure  in  the  early  hours.  Eleven  or  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  bright  sunlight  has  become  my  hour,  when 
the  sun  beats  down  hotly  on  our  heads,  and  every  one 
is  drowsy  with  the  noon-heat.  Then  you  may  also  catch 
the  Chinaman  smoking  and  drinking  his  tea  once  again, 
and  if  you  are  quick  a  dead  man  is  your  reward.    Every 


SNIPING  201 

dead  man  puts  another  drop  of  caution  into  the 
attackers.    It  is  therefore  good  and  useful. 

Yesterday  I  had  great  luck,  for  I  got  three  men  within 
very  few  minutes  of  one  another;  and  then  when  I  was 
fondly  imagining  that  I  might  pick  off  dozens  more 
from  my  coign  of  vantage,  I  was  swept  back  into  our 
lines  under  such  a  storm  of  fire  as  I  have  never  expe- 
rienced before.  I  should  tell  you  that  there  are  practi- 
cally only  two  shooting-grounds  where  this  curious  sport 
may  be  had;  there  are  only  two  areas  of  brick  and  ruins 
where  by  judicious  manoeuvring  you  may  steal  out  and 
get  the  enemy  on  his  exposed  flank  where  no  barricades 
protect  him  from  an  enfilading  fire.  These  two  areas 
lie  opposite  the  Russian  front,  and  beyond  the  extreme 
Japanese  western  posts  of  the  Su  wang-fu.  Since  the 
Russian  front  is  the  Russian  commander's  own  preserve, 
it  is  from  the  Japanese  posts  that  I  work. 

On  the  day  when  I  made  my  record  bag,  half-past 
eleven  found  everybody  drowsy  and  the  time  propitious. 
Our  northern  Peking  sun  beats  down  pitilessly  from  the 
cloudless  skies  at  such  a  time,  and  so  I  had  the  field 
completely  to  myself.  Firing  had  ceased  absolutely  on 
all  sides,  and  the  Chinese  had  begun  to  sleep.  Crouch- 
ing low  down  I  scurried  across  from  the  Japanese  post 
to  some  ruins  fifty  feet  off,  and  remained  quietly  squat- 
ting there,  panting  in  the  heat,  to  get  myself  bearings. 
Around  me  all  was  silent,  and  thirty  or  forty  yards  from 
where  I  lay  I  could  see  the  brown  face  of  the  Japanese 
sailor  laughing  at  me  through  a  loophole.  Presently 
bringing  my  glasses  into  play  I  swept  the  huge  pile  of 
ruined  houses  and  streets  lying  huddled  on  all  sides. 

There  was  not  a  twig  stirring  or  a  shadow  moving. 
All  was  dead  quiet.     The  main  Chinese  camp  on  this 


202  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

side  was  placed  in  H 's  abandoned  compounds — 

that  we  had  discovered  long  ago — but  the  battalions 
there  were  now  apparently  asleep  with  not  so  much  as 
a  sentry  out.  So,  gaining  confidence,  I  pushed  on,  work- 
ing parallel  to  Prince  Su's  outer  walls  and  about  fifty 
feet  beyond  them.  Suddenly  I  stopped  and  dropped, 
quite  by  instinct,  for  although  my  mind  had  telegraphed 
the  danger  to  my  knees,  I  did  not  fully  realise  what  it 
was  until  I  was  on  the  ground.  Just  round  the  corner 
there  was  a  glimpse  of  three  men  stripped  to  the  waist 
to  be  seen.  Had  they  seen  me?  I  waited  in  some  sus- 
pense for  a  few  seconds,  pressed  my  glasses  back  into 
their  case,  and  gripped  my  rifle.  My  anxiety  was  soon 
set  at  rest,  for  with  a  clatter,  which  seemed  ten  times 
greater  than  it  really  was,  the  men  set  quickly  to  work 
on  a  structure.  They  were  building  something,  and  now 
was  my  chance.  Getting  to  the  corner  again  I  peered 
cautiously  around,  and  there  but  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
from  where  I  lay  three  strapping  fellows  were  raising  a 
heavy  log.  They  had  pulled  off  their  red  and  black 
tunics,  and  were  only  in  their  baggy  breeches  and  the 
curious  little  stomach  apron  the  Northern  Chinaman 
affects  to  keep  himself  from  catching  cold. 

Their  brown  backs  glistened  with  sweat  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  and  between  their  belts  and  the  loose  black 
turbans,  under  which  their  pigtails  were  gathered  up, 
an  ideal  two-feet  target  presented  itself.  Carefully  I 
fired. 

In  a  flash  one  broad  brown  back  was  suddenly  splashed 
with  red,  a  fellow  sank  on  his  knees  with  outstretched 
arms,  and  at  last  rolled  over  without  a  moan,  apparently 
as  dead  as  dead  could  be.     It  was  brutalising. 

The  log  the  men  were  carrying  crashed  down  heavily 


SNIPING  203 

on  the  ground  and  the  two  remaining  soldiers  started 
back  in  surprise.  From  whence  came  that  shot?  In 
front  of  where  they  were  working  lay  their  advanced 
posts,  which,  facing  our  own,  two  or  three  hundred  feet 
away,  should  completely  cover  them.  They  peered 
around  for  a  few  minutes,  anxiously  searching  their 
front  and  not  looking  behind  them.  At  last  they  appar- 
ently decided  that  it  must  have  been  a  stray  shot,  for, 
bending  down,  they  once  more  raised  the  log,  paying  no 
more  attention  to  their  dead  companion  than  they  would 
to  a  dead  dog. 

This  time  I  let  them  advance  towards  their  outposts 
until  they  were  a  hundred  feet  farther  away.  Then  I 
fired  again.  The  log  came  down  once  more  with  a  dull 
thud,  and  both  the  men  fell  as  well.  But  imagine  my 
disgust  when  they  both  rose  to  their  feet,  one  man 
merely  showing  the  other  a  snipped  shoulder  which  must 
be  bleeding,  but  was  evidently  nothing  as  a  wound.  I 
cursed  my  government  rifle,  which  always  throws  to  the 
right.  At  less  than  a  hundred  yards  such  practice  was 
disgraceful.  This  time  both  the  men  were  aroused,  and, 
abandoning  their  log,  they  disappeared  round  some 
ruins,  only  to  reappear  with  their  tunics  on,  their  ban- 
doliers strapped  round  them,  and  their  Mausers  in  their 
hands.  They  meant  to  have  some  revenge.  I  lost  sight 
of  them  for  quite  ten  minutes,  only  to  have  them  both 
out  again  almost  halfway  between  myself  and  the  Jap- 
anese post  from  which  I  had  sallied  forth.  I  was  cut  off  ! 
I  would  have  to  wipe  those  two  men  out  or  else  they 
would  do  that  to  me. 

They  were  in  no  hurry,  however,  for  they  began  by 
beating  the  ground  carefully  and  taking  advantage  of 
every  piece  of  cover.     They  evidently  suspected  that 


204         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

some  of  our  men  had  come  out  in  skirmishing  order  and 
were  still  lying  hidden ;  at  last  one  saw  something.  He 
had  caught  sight  of  the  Japanese  sentry  who  was  looking 
out  anxiously  to  see  what  had  become  of  me.  So  rising 
hurriedly,  the  soldier  fired  at  the  brown  Japanese  face. 
Before  he  had  sunk  on  his  knees  again  I  had  drilled 
him  fair  with  a  snapshot — in  the  head  it  must  have  been, 
because  he  went  over  with  a  piercing  yell  and  with  his 
hands  plucking  at  his  cap.  The  other  man  did  not  wait 
to  see  what  would  happen,  but  fled  as  fast  as  he  could 
down  a  small  lane  that  ran  only  twenty  feet  past  me. 
Seeing  the  game  was  played  out,  I  rose  and  fired  rapidly 
from  under  the  crook  of  my  arm  and  missed.  Reload- 
ing as  I  scrambled  after  him,  I  drove  another  bullet  at 
him,  and  he  staggered  wildly  but  did  not  fall.  My 
blood  was  now  up,  and  I  was  determined  to  get  him, 
even  if  I  had  to  follow  into  the  Chinese  camp,  so  I  sped 
along  too.  The  fellow  was  now  yelling  lustily,  calling 
his  comrades  to  his  aid,  and  I  seemed  to  be  going  mad 
in  my  excitement.  I  fired  again  as  I  ran,  and  must  have 
hit  him  again,  for  he  reeled  still  more;  then  he  turned 
totteringly  into  a  ruined  doorway.   .   .   . 

Just  as  I  determined  that  I  must  give  it  up  the  scene 
changed  like  the  flash  of  a  lamp.  My  quarry  stumbled 
and  fell  flat;  dozens  of  half-stripped  men  came  charging 
towards  me,  loading  as  they  ran,  and  almost  before  I 
knew  it,  the  ground  around  me  was  ripped  with  bullets. 

Then  in  turn  how  I  raced ! 

Such  was  the  storm  of  fire  around  me  that  I  nearly 
dropped  my  rifle  so  as  to  improve  my  pace,  and  all  the 
moisture  left  my  mouth.  Holding  grimly  on  I  at  last 
cleared  the  exposed  ground,  and  jumped  through  into  the 
Japanese  barricades.    In  their  rage  the  Chinese  soldiery 


SNIPING  205 

rushed  into  the  open  after  me,  firing  angrily  all  along 
the  line,  and  before  the  loopholes  could  be  properly 
manned  and  the  fusillade  returned  they  were  almost  up 
to  us.  Then,  as  always  happens,  they  suddenly  became 
irresolute,  and  trickled  away,  and  from  behind  safe 
cover  they  poured  in  the  same  long-range  rifle-fire.  .  .  . 
This,  however,  is  only  an  incident — one  which  I  pro- 
voked. Generally  we  are  not  so  enterprising,  but  are 
inclined  to  accept  events  as  they  unroll.  But  this 
escapade  proved  to  me  that  attacks  are  thrown  against 
us  only  after  special  orders  have  been  issued  by  the  gov- 
ernment, and  that  the  camps  of  soldiery  established 
round  our  lines  are  as  much  to  imprison  us  as  to  slay  us. 
They  have  bound  us  in  with  brickworks,  and  they  bom- 
bard us  intermittently  with  nine  or  ten  guns;  but  each 
bombardment  and  each  attack  seems  to  be  conducted 
quite  without  any  relation  to  the  general  situation.  .  .  . 
Fortunately,  then,  although  we  are  ill  organised  and 
badly  commanded  as  a  whole,  our  units  are  well  led, 
and  we  meet  the  situation  as  it  actually  is  on  the  best  plan 
possible  for  the  time  being.  But  will  this  last?  Will 
not  something  happen  which  will  fling  our  enemy 
against  us  animated  by  one  desire — a  desire  to  slay  us 
one  and  all?  It  requires  now  but  one  rush  of  the  thou- 
sands of  armed  men  encamped  about  us  to  sweep  our 
defence  oft  the  face  of  the  earth  like  so  many  dried  and 
worthless  leaves. 


XII 

THE  GALLANT  FRENCH 

14th  July,  1900. 


The  post  fighting  is  becoming  more  desperate,  and  the 
French  are  steadily  losing  ground.  Is  it  true  that  they 
are  losing  courage?  Of  course,  every  one  knows  that 
they  are  a  gallant  race,  and  that  although  the  Germans, 
by  their  relentless  science  and  unending  attention  to  de- 
tail, are  rated  superior  in  machine-like  warfare,  they 
can  never  be  quite  like  the  brilliant  conquerors  of  Jena, 
Austerlitz,  and  a  hundred  other  battles;  and  yet  no  one 
expected  the  French  were  going  to  cling  to  the  ruins 
of  their  Legation  with  the  bulldog  desperation  of  which 
they  complained  in  the  English  at  Waterloo;  a  des- 
peration making  each  house  a  siege  in  itself,  and  only 
ending  with  the  total  destruction  of  that  house  by  shells 
or  fire;  were  going  to  treat  all  idea  of  retirement  with 
contempt,  although  their  shabby  treatment  caused  them 
two  weeks  ago  to  temporarily  evacuate  their  lines  in  a 
fit  of  moroseness.  .  .  .  This  is  what  has  happened  until 
now,  for  the  French  have  set  their  teeth,  and  now  every 
one  almost  believes  that  nothing — not  even  mines, 
shells,  myriads  of  bullets,  and  foolish  order  after  order 
from  headquarters  ordering  men  to  be  sent  elsewhere — 
will  beat  them  back.  And  yet  they  cannot  keep  on  this 
way  for  ever.  All  round  them  the  connecting  posts  and 
blockhouses  are  losing  more  and  more  men,  and  matters 
are  reaching  a  dangerous  point. 


THE  GALLANT  FRENCH  207 

It  is  now  nearly  four  weeks  since  the  first  bullet  flicked 
out  the  brains  of  the  first  French  sailor  ten  minutes  after 
the  opening  of  hostilities  at  barricades  far  away  down 
Customs  Street,  and  in  these  twenty-five  days  which  have 
elapsed  the  French  positions  have  been  beaten  into  such 
shapeless  masses  that  they  are  quite  past  recognition.  I 
had  not  been  there  for  a  week,  and  was  shocked  when 
I  saw  how  little  remains.  The  Chinese  have,  foot  by 
foot,  gained  more  than  half  of  the  Legation,  and  all 
that  is  practically  left  to  the  defenders  is  their  main-gate 
blockhouse,  a  long  barricaded  trench  and  the  remains  of 
a  few  houses.  These  they  have  sworn  to  retain  until 
they  are  too  feeble  to  hold.  Then,  and  then  only,  will 
they  retreat  into  the  next  line  behind  them,  the  fortified 
Hotel  de  Pekin,  which  has  already  four  hundred  shell 
holes  in  it. 

Yesterday's  losses  at  the  French  lines  were  five  men 
wounded,  four  blown  up  by  a  mine,  of  whom  two  never 
have  been  seen  again,  and  two  men  killed  outright  by 
rifle-fire.  Then  the  last  houses  were  set  fire  to  by  Chi- 
nese soldiers,  who,  able  to  push  forward  in  the  excite- 
ment and  confusion  of  the  mine  explosions,  attempted 
to  seize  and  hold  these  strategic  points,  and  were  only 
driven  out  by  repeated  counter-attacks.  Such  events 
show  that  for  some  occult  reason  the  Chinese  commands 
are  trying  to  carry  the  French  lines  by  every  possible 
device.  ...  It  has  been  like  this  for  a  week  now. 

For,  from  the  7th  of  July,  the  Chinese  commands,  hav- 
ing prepared  the  ground  for  their  attacks  by  a  heavy 
cannonade  lasting  for  sixty  hours,  which  riddled  every- 
thing above  the  ground  level  with  gaping  holes,  started 
pushing  forward  through  the  breaches,  and  setting  fire, 
by  means  of  torches  attached  to  long  bamboo  poles,  to 


208         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

everything  which  would  burn.  No  living  men,  no  mat- 
ter how  brave,  can  hold  a  glowing  mass  of  ruins  and 
ashes,  and  the  Chinese  were  showing  devilish  cunning. 
Isolated  combats  took  place  along  the  whole  French  line 
— in  a  vain  effort  to  drive  off  the  incendiaries,  little 
sorties  of  two  or  three  men  furiously  attacking  the  per- 
sistent enemy,  and  each  time  driving  him  back  with  loss, 
only  to  find  him  dribbling  in  again  like  muddy  water 
through  every  hole  and  cranny  in  the  imperfect  defences. 
But  even  this  did  not  do  much  good.  No  one  could 
keep  an  accurate  record  of  these  curious  encounters  dur- 
ing the  first  few  days,  for  they  have  succeeded  one  an- 
other with  such  rapidity  that  men  have  become  too  tired, 
too  sleepy  to  wish  to  talk.  They  try  to  act,  and  some 
of  their  adventures  have  been  astonishing. 

Thus  a  young  Breton  sailor,  not  more  than  seventeen 
years  old,  seeing  men  armed  with  swords  collecting  one 
night  for  a  rush,  jumped  down  among  them  from  the 
top  of  an  earthwork,  and  shot  and  bayonetted  three  or 
four  of  them  before  they  had  time  to  defend  themselves. 
Then  it  took  him  half  an  hour  to  get  back  to  safety  by 
creeping  from  one  hole  in  the  ground  to  another  and 
avoiding  the  rifle-fire.   .   .   . 

Self-preservation  makes  it  necessary  to  rush  out  thus 
single  handed  and  ease  your  front.  Every  man  killed 
is  a  discouragement,  which  holds  the  enemy  back 
a  bit. 

Exploits  of  this  nature  must  at  length  have  shown  the 
Chinese  soldiery  that  they  have  to  face  men  endowed 
with  the  courage  of  despair  in  this  quarter;  and  fearing 
cold  steel  more  than  anything  else,  they  have  decided 
that  the  only  way  of  reaching  their  prey  is  by  blowing 
them  up  piecemeal.     That  is  why  they  have  taken  to 


THE  GALLANT  FRENCH  209 

mining — most  audacious  mining,  carried  on  under  the 
noses  of  the  French  defenders.  If  you  come  here  at 
night,  and  remain  until  one  of  those  curious  lulls  in  the 
rifle-fire  suddenly  begins,  you  will  distinctly  hear  this 
curious  tapping  of  picks  and  shovels,  which  means  the 
preparation  of  a  gallery. 

So  as  to  save  time,  such  mining  is  not  begun  from  be- 
hind the  enemy's  trenches;  it  is  audaciously  commenced 
in  the  ruins  which  litter  some  of  the  neutral  territory, 
which  neither  side  holds  and  into  which  Chinese  des- 
peradoes creep  as  soon  as  it  is  dusk.  For  a  few  days  the 
French  did  not  dare  to  make  sorties  against  such  enter- 
prises, but  some  of  the  younger  volunteers,  discovering 
that  these  sappers  were  only  armed  with  their  tools,  have 
taken  to  creeping  out  and  butchering  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.   .   .   .     This  is  terrible,  but  absolutely  true. 

Thus  a  young  volunteer,  named  D ,   found,   after 

watching  for  two  days,  that  a  number  of  men  crept  into 
a  tunnel  mouth  every  night  only  twenty  feet  from  his 
post,  and  began  working  on  a  mine  right  under  his  feet. 
He  decided  to  go  out  himself  and  kill  them  all.  .  .  . 
He  told  me  the  story.  He  crept  out  two  days  ago  as 
soon  as  he  had  seen  them  go  in,  and,  posting  himself  at 
the  entrance,  called  on  the  men  to  come  out,  else  he 
would  block  them  in  and  kill  them  in  the  most  miserable 
way  he  could  think  of.  They  came  out,  crawling  on 
their  hands  and  knees,  and  as  each  man  slipped  up  to 
the  level  he  was  bayonetted  ...   in  the  end  thirteen 

were  killed  like  this.     Three  remained,  but  D 's 

strength  was  not  equal  to  it,  and  he  had  to  drive  them  in 
as  captives.  Then  they  were  despatched  and  beheaded. 
They  say  the  French  sailors  slung  back  those  heads  far 
over  into  the  advanced  Chinese  barricades  with  taunts 


210         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

and  shouts.  That  stopped  all  work  for  a  few  hours. 
But  it  was  not  for  long  enough. 

Yesterday,  the  13th,  the  Chinese  had  their  revenge 
for  the  loss  of  the  hundred  odd  men  who  have  been  shot 
or  bayonetted  along  this  front  during  the  past  week. 
At  six  in  the  evening,  when  the  rifle-fire  all  along  the 
line  had  become  stilled,  a  tremendous  explosion  shook 
every  quarter  of  our  besieged  area  and  made  every  one 
tremble  with  apprehension.  Even  in  the  most  northerly 
part  of  our  defences — the  Hanlin  posts  beyond  the  Brit- 
ish Legation,  which  are  probably  three  or  four  thousand 
feet  away — the  men  said  it  was  like  an  earthquake.  In 
the  French  lines  it  seemed  as  if  the  end  of  the  world 
had  come.  The  Chinese,  having  successfully  sapped 
right  under  one  of  the  remaining  fortified  houses,  had 
blown  it  up  with  a  huge  charge  of  black  gunpowder. 

D ,  the  French  commander,   R ,  the  Austrian 

Charge    d' Affaires,    the    same    indomitable    volunteer 

D ,  and  a  picket  of  four  French  sailors  were  in  the 

house,  and  were  buried  in  the  ruins.  Hardly  had  the 
echoes  of  the  first  explosion  died  away,  when  a  second 
one  blew  up  another  house,  and  out  of  the  ruins  were 
lifted,  as  if  the  powers  of  darkness  had  taken  pity  on 
them  all,  the  defenders  who  had  been  buried  alive,  ex- 
cepting two.  Never  has  such  a  thing  been  heard  of 
before.  Providence  is  plainly  helping  us.  The 
wretched  men  thus  cruelly  treated  were  all  the  colour  of 
death  and  bleeding  badly  when  they  were  dragged  out. 
The  two  missing  French  sailors  must  have  been  crushed 
into  fragments.     Only  a  foot  has  been  found.    .    .    . 

That  was  afterwards;  for  the  mine  explosions  were 
the  signals  for  a  terrible  bombardment  and  rifle-fire  all 
along  the  line,  from  which  we  have  not  yet  recovered. 


THE  GALLANT  FRENCH  211 

The  French,  more  than  a  little  shaken,  were  driven  into 
their  last  trench — the  tranche  Bartholin,  which  has  just 
been  completed.  They  held  this  to  this  morning  and 
then  counter-attacked.  That  is  why  I  have  found  myself 
here.  Reinforcements  were  rushed  in  by  us  at  daybreak, 
and  after  a  sleepless  forty  hours  the  Chinese  advance 
has  been  fairly  held.  But  for  how  long?  If  they  act 
as  earnestly  during  the  next  week  we  are  finished! 


XIII 
THE  BRITISH  LEGATION  BASE 

15  th  July,  1900. 


Fortunately,  startling  events  of  the  sort  I  have  just 
described  are  confined  to  the  outposts,  and  the  half  a 
dozen  closely  threatened  points.  Our  main  base,  the 
British  Legation,  is  little  affected,  and  many  in  it  do  not 
appear  to  realise  or  to  know  anything  of  these  frantic 
encounters  along  the  outer  lines.  They  can  tell  from 
the  stretcher-parties  that  come  in  at  all  hours  of  the  day 
and  night,  and  pass  down  to  the  hospital,  what  success 
the  Chinese  fire  is  having,  but  beyond  this  they  know 
nothing.  They  secretly  hope,  most  of  them,  that  it  will 
remain  like  this  to  the  end;  that  bullets  and  shells  may 
scream  overhead,  but  that  they  may  be  left  attending  to 
minor  affairs.  As  I  look  around  me,  it  appears  more 
and  more  evident  that  self-preservation  is  the  dominant, 
mean  characteristic  of  modern  mankind.  The  universal 
attitude  is :  spare  me  and  take  all  my  less  worthy  neigh- 
bours. In  gaining  in  skin-deep  civilisation  we  have  lost 
in  the  animal-fighting  capacity.  We  are  truly  mainly 
grotesque  when  our  lives  are  in  danger. 

In  the  British  Legation  time  has  even  been  found  to 
establish  a  model  laundry,  and  several  able-bodied  men 
actually  fought  for  the  privilege  of  supervising  it,  they 
say,  when  the  idea  was  mooted. 

Neither  have  our  Ministers  improved  by  the  seasoning 


THE  BRITISH  LEGATION  BASE  213 

process  of  the  siege.  Most  of  them  have  become  so  ridic- 
ulous, that  they  shun  the  public  eye,  and  listen  to  the 
roar  of  the  rifles  from  safe  places  which  cannot  be  dis- 
covered. And  yet  fully  half  of  them  are  able-bodied 
men,  who  might  do  valuable  work;  who  might  even  take 
rifles  and  shoot.  But  it  is  they  who  give  a  ridiculous 
side,  and  for  that,  at  least,  one  should  be  thankful.     It 

is  something  to  see  P ,  the  French  Minister,  starting 

out  with  his  whole  staff,  all  armed  with  fusils  de  chasse, 
and  looking  tres  sportsman  on  a  tour  of  inspection  when 
everything  is  quiet.  Each  one  is  well  told  by  his  tearful 
wife  to  look  out  for  the  Boxers,  to  be  on  the  alert — 
as  if  Chinese  banditti  were  lurking  just  outside  the  Lega- 
tion base  to  swallow  up  these  brave  creatures ! — and  in  a 
compact  body  they  sally  forth.  These  are  the  married 
men;  marriage  excuses  everything  when  the  guns  begin 
to  play.  Thus  the  Secretary  of  Legation,  whose  name  I 
will  not  divulge  even  with  an  initial,  amused  me  im- 
mensely yesterday  by  calculating  how  much  more  valu- 
able he  was  to  the  State  as  a  father  of  a  family  than  an 
unmarried  youngster  like  myself.  He  tried  to  prove  to 
me  that  if  he  died  the  economic  value  of  his  children 
would  suffer — what  a  fool  he  was ! — and  that  my  own 
value  capitalised  after  the  manner  of  mathematicians 
was  very  small.  I  listened  to  him  carefully,  and  then 
asked  if  the  difference  between  a  brave  man  and  a 
coward  had  any  economic  significance.  He  became  sud- 
denly angry  and  left  me.  Some  of  the  besieged  are  be- 
coming truly  revolting. 

Even  P ,  who  some  people  think  ought  to  stay  in 

the  remains  of  his  own  Legation,  is  rather  disgusted, 
and  as  he  marches  out  in  an  embroidered  nightshirt,  with 
little  birds  picked  out  in  red  thread  on  it,  he  is  not  as  ab- 


214         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

surd  as  I  first  thought.  Poor  man,  he  is  attempting  to 
do  his  duty  after  his  own  lights,  and  excepting  two  or 
three  others,  he  has  been  the  most  creditable  of  all  the 
elderly  men,  who  think  that  position  excuses  everything. 

Labouring  at  the  making  of  sandbags,  the  women  sit 
under  shelter,  and  keep  company  with  those  men  who 
have  not  the  stomach  to  go  out.  And  as  shells  have 
been  falling  more  and  more  frequently  in  and  around 
this  safe  base,  and  rumour  has  told  them  that  the  outer 
lines  may  give  way,  bomb-proof  shelters  have  been  dug 
in  many  quarters  ready  to  receive  all  those  who  are  will- 
ing to  crouch  for  hours  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  being 
hit.   .   .   . 

Otherwise,  there  is  nothing  much  to  note  in  the  British 
Legation,  for  here  the  storm  and  stress  of  the  outer 
lines  come  back  oddly  enough  quite  faintly,  excepting 
during  a  general  attack.  The  dozens  of  walls  account 
for  that.     In  the  evenings  the  missionaries  now  gather 

and    sing    hymns    .     .     .    sometimes    Madame    P , 

the  wife  of  the  great  Russian  Bank  Director,  takes  com- 
passion, and  gives  an  aria  from  some  opera.  She  used 
to  be  a  diva  in  the  St.  Petersburg  Opera  House,  they 
say,  years  ago,  and  her  voice  comes  like  a  sweet  dream 
in  such  surroundings.  A  week  ago  a  strange  thing 
happened  when  she  was  giving  an  impromptu  concert. 
She  was  singing  the  Jewel  song  from  Faust  so  ringingly 
that  the  Chinese  snipers  must  have  heard  it,  for  imme- 
diately they  opened  a  heavy  "fire,"  which  grew  to  a  per- 
fect tornado,  and  sent  the  listeners  flying  in  terror.  Per- 
haps the  enemy  thought  it  was  a  new  war-cry,  which 
meant  their  sudden  damnation  ! 

Yet  we  have  had  so  much  time  to  rectify  all  our  mis- 
takes that  things  are  in  much  better  working  order. 


THE  BRITISH  LEGATION  BASE  215 

Public  opinion  has  made  the  commander-in-chief  dis- 
tribute the  British  marines  in  many  of  the  exposed  posi- 
tions, and  thus  allow  inferior  fighting  forces  to  garrison 
the  interior  lines.  Twice  last  week,  before  this  redistri- 
bution had  been  completed,  there  was  trouble  with  both 
the  Italian  and  the  Austrian  sailors  and  some  volunteers. 
Posts  of  them  retreated  during  the  night.  .  .  .  They 
gave  as  their  excuse  that  they  knew  that  the  loose  organ- 
isation would  cause  them  to  be  sacrificed  if  the  enemy 
began  rushing.  There  is  much  to  be  said  for  them;  the 
general  command  had  been  disgraceful,  especially  dur- 
ing the  night,  when  only  good  fortune  saves  us  from  an- 
nihilation. One  single  determined  rush  is  all  that  is 
needed  to  end  this  farce.  .   .    . 

These  retreats,  which  have  not  been  confined  to  the 
sailors,  have  ended  by  causing  great  commotion  and 
alarm  among  the  non-combatants,  and  reserve  trenches 
and  barricades  are  being  improved  and  manned  in  grow- 
ing numbers.  Still,  the  distribution  is  unequal.  There 
is  a  force  of  nearly  sixty  rifles  in  what  is  the  northern 
front  of  the  British  Legation — the  sole  front  exposed 
to  direct  attack  on  this  side  of  the  square.  With  diffi- 
culty can  the  command  be  induced  to  withdraw  a  single 
man  from  here.  They  say  it  is  so  close  to  all  those  who 
have  sought  the  shelter  of  the  British  Legation,  so  close 
to  the  women  and  children  and  those  who  are  afraid, 
that  it  would  be  a  crime  to  weaken  this  front.  And  yet 
there  has  been  hardly  a  casualty  among  those  sixty  men 
during  four  weeks'  siege,  while  elsewhere  about  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  have  been  killed  and  wounded.  .   .    . 

The  fear  that  fire-balls  will  be  flung  far  in  from  here, 
or  fire-arrows  shot  from  the  adjacent  trenches,  has  made 
them  institute  patrols,  which  make  a  weary  round  all 


216         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

through  the  night  to  see  that  all's  well.  In  the  thick 
darkness  these  men  can  act  as  they  please,  and  already 
there  are  several  sales  histoires  being  sold.  One  is  very 
funny.  The  patrol  in  question  was  composed  entirely 
of  Russian  students,  who  are  not  rated  as  effectives. 
Beginning  at  nine  o'clock  the  day  before  yesterday,  the 
patrol  had  got  as  far  as  the  Japanese  women's  quarters 
at  this  northern  front  of  the  British  Legation,  when  they 
were  halted  for  a  few  minutes  to  communicate  some  or- 
ders. One  of  the  volunteers,  of  an  amorous  disposition, 
noticed  a  buxom  little  Japanese  servant  at  work  on  a 
wash-tub  in  the  gloom.  An  appointment  was  made  for 
the  morrow.  .    .    . 

The  next  night  duly  came.  Once  more  the  patrol 
halted,  and  once  more  the  young  Russian  told  his  com- 
panions to  go  on.  The  patrol  moved  away,  and  the  ad- 
venturous Russian  tiptoed  into  the  Japanese  quarters. 
Cautiously  feeling  his  way  down  a  corridor,  he  opened 
a  door,  which  he  thought  the  right  one;  then  the  tragedy 
occurred.  Suddenly  a  quiet  voice  said  to  him  in  French 
out  of  the  gloom: 

"Monsieur  desire  qnelque  chose?  Je  serai  charmee  de 
donner  a  Monsieur  ce  qn'il  voudra  s'il  vent  bien  rester 
a  la  ported  The  wretched  Russian  student  imagined  he 
was  lost;  it  was  the  wife  of  a  Minister!  He  hesitated  a 
minute;  then,  gripping  his  rifle  and  with  the  perfect  Rus- 
sian imperturbability  coming  to  his  rescue,  he  replied, 
with  a  deep  bow:  "Merci,  Madame,  merci  mille  foisf 
Je  cherchais  settlement  de  la  vaseline  pour  mon  fusil!" 

This  phrase  has  become  immortal  among  the  besieged. 


XIV 

THE  EVER-GROWING  CASUALTY  LIST 

1 6th  July,    1900. 


And  yet  one  is  lucky  if  one  can  laugh  at  all.  The 
rifle  and  cannon  fire  continues;  barricades  are  pushing 
closer  and  closer,  more  of  our  men  are  falling — it  is 
always  the  same  monotonous  chronicle.    A  few  days  ago 

poor  T ,  the  Austrian  cruiser  captain,  who  aspired 

to  be  our  commander-in-chief  with  such  disastrous  re- 
sults, was  killed  in  the  Su  wang-fu  while  he  was  encour- 
aging his  men  to  stand  firm  and  not  repeat  some  of  their 

former  performances.     To-day  little  S ,  the  British 

Minister's  chief  of  the  staff,  has  been  mortally  hit,  and 
has  just  died.  It  was  a  sad  affair.  In  the  morning  a 
party  from  headquarters  was  making  a  tour  of  inspection 
of  the  Su  wang-fu  posts,  in  order  to  see  exactly  how  much 
battering  they  could  stand,  and  how  soon  the  Italian 
contention  that  already  the  hillock  works  were  untenable 
would  become  an  undeniable  fact.  The  Italian  defences 
had  been  inspected,  and  the  little  party  was  crossing  the 
ornamental  gardens,  which  are  always  swept  by  a  storm 

of  fire,  when  suddenly  S fell  mortally  wounded, 

M ,  the  correspondent,  was  badly  hit  in  the  leg,  the 

Japanese  colonel  alone  escaping  with  a  bullet-cut  tunic. 
They  had  drawn  the  enemy's  fire.  Great  was  the  dis- 
may when  the  news  became  generally  known;  it  meant 
that  the  authority  of  headquarters  had  received  a  cruel 


218         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

blow.  There  is  no  officer  left  who  can  really  perform 
the  duties  of  the  chief  of  the  staff,  and  all  the  outer  lines 
will  feel  this  loosening  of  a  control  which  has  really  only 
been  complimentary  and  nominal.  Casualties  among 
the  officers  of  the  other  detachments  had  allowed  the 
British  marine  commanders  to  increase  their  influence. 
Now  it  is  finished.  The  only  two  good  ones  have  now 
been  struck  off  the  list. 

All  day  long  men  looked  gloomily  about  them,  and  felt 
that  gradually  but  surely  things  were  progressing  from 
bad  to  worse.  Six  of  the  best  officers  have  either  been 
killed  or  so  badly  wounded  that  they  cannot  possibly 
take  the  field  again;  about  fifty  of  our  most  daring 
regulars  and  volunteers  have  been  killed  outright;  the 
number  of  admittances  to  the  hospital  up  to  date  is 
one  hundred  and  ten;  and  thus  of  the  four  hundred  and 
fifty  rifles  defending  our  lines,  nearly  a  third  have  been 
placed  out  of  action  in  less  than  four  weeks.  Excepting 
for  a  small  gap  across  the  Northern  Imperial  canal 
bridge,  a  continuous  double,  or  even  treble,  line  of  the 
enemy's  barricades  now  stretch  unbroken  from  a  point 
opposite  the  American  positions  on  the  Tartar  Wall 
round  in  a  vast  irregular  curve  to  the  city  wall  overlook- 
ing the  German  Legation. 

These  barricades  are  becoming  more  and  more  power- 
ful, and  are  being  pushed  so  close  to  us  by  a  system  of 
parallels  and  traverses  that  at  the  Su  wang-fu  and  the 
French  lines  only  a  few  feet  separate  some  of  our  own 
defences  from  the  enemy's.  Already  it  had  twice  hap- 
pened that  a  fierce  and  unique  deed  had  taken  place  at 
the  same  loophole  between  one  of  our  men  and  a  Chinese 
brave,  ending  in  the  shooting  of  one  or  the  other,  forcing 
a  retirement  on  our  part  to  the  next  line  of  barricades. 


THE  EVER-GROWING  CASUALTY  LIST         219 

Thus,  by  sheer  weight  of  brickwork  they  are  crushing  us 
in,  and  if  they  have  only  two  weeks'  more  uninterrupted 

work,  it  can  only  end  in  one  way.     Colonel  S has 

made  two  more  frantic  sorties,  in  both  of  which  I  took 
part  at  daybreak,  with  a  few  men,  which  succeeded  each 
time  in  pushing  back  the  enemy  for  a  few  days  in  one 
particular  corner  at  the  cost  of  casualties  we  cannot 
afford.  But  the  work  and  the  strain  are  becoming  ex- 
hausting, and  even  the  Japanese,  who  are  being  driven 

by  little  S like  mules,  are  showing  the  effects  in  their 

lack-lustre  eyes  and  dragging  legs.  The  men  are  half 
drunk  from  lack  of  sleep  and  from  bad,  overheated 
blood,  caused  by  a  perpetual  peering  through  loopholes 
and  a  continual  alertness  even  when  they  are  asleep. 
The  strain  is  intolerable,  I  say,  and  pony  meat  is  be- 
coming nauseating,  and  fills  me  with  disgust. 

On  top  of  it  all  the  trenches  are  now  sometimes  half 
full  of  water,  for  the  summer  rains,  which  have  held 
back  for  so  long,  are  beginning  to  fall.  The  stenches 
are  so  bad  from  rotting  carcases  and  obscene  droppings 
that  an  already  weakened  stomach  becomes  so  rebellious 
that  it  is  hard  to  swallow  any  food  at  all. 

In  the  morning  it  is  sometimes  revolting.  For  four 
days  I  was  at  a  line  of  loopholes,  with  Chinese  corpses 
swelling  in  the  sun  under  my  nose.  ...  At  the  risk  of 
being  shot,  I  covered  them  partially  by  throwing  hand- 
fuls  of  mud.  Otherwise  not  I  myself,  but  my  rebellious 
stomach,  could  not  have  stood  it. 

Scorched  by  the  sun  by  day,  unable  to  sleep  except  in 
short  snatches  at  night,  with  a  never-ending  rifle  and 
cannon  fire  around  us,  we  have  had  almost  as  much  as  we 
can  stand,  and  no  one  wants  any  more.  I  wonder  now 
sometimes  why  we  have  been  abandoned  by  our  own 


220  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

people.     Reliefs  and  S are  only  seen  in  ghastly 

dreams.  .   .   . 

And  yet  there  are  others  near  who  must  be  faring 
worse  than  we.    Far  away  in  the  north  of  the  city,  where 

are  Monseigneur  F 's  cathedral,  his  thousands  of 

converts,  and  the  forty  or  fifty  men  he  so  ardently  de- 
sired, we  hear  on  the  quieter  days  a  distant  rumble  of 
cannon.  Sometimes  when  the  wind  bears  down  on  us 
we  think  we  can  hear  a  confused  sound  of  rifle-firing, 
far,  far  away.  They  say  that  Jung  Lu,  the  Manchu 
Generalissimo  of  Peking,  whose  friendship  has  been 
assiduously  cultivated  by  the  French  Bishop,  is  seeing 
to  it  that  the  Chinese  attacks  are  not  pushed  home,  and 
that  a  waiting  policy  is  adopted  similar  to  that  which  the 
Chinese  have  used  towards  us.  But  no  matter  what 
be  the  actual  facts  of  the  case,  the  besieged  fathers  must 
be  having  a  terrible  time.   .    .    . 

Ponies  and  mules  are  also  getting  scarcer,  and  the 
original  mobs,  numbering  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty 
or  two  hundred  head,  have  disappeared  at  the  rate  of 
two  or  three  a  day  as  meat.  Our  remaining  animals  are 
now  quartered  in  a  portion  of  the  Su  wang-fu,  where 
they  are  feeding  on  what  scant  grass  and  green  vegeta- 
tion they  can  still  find  in  those  gloomy  gardens.  Some- 
times a  humming  bullet  flies  low  and  maims  one  of  the 
poor  animals  in  a  vital  spot.  Then  the  butcher  need 
not  use  his  knife,  for  meat  is  precious,  and  even  the  sick 
horses  that  die,  and  whose  bodies  are  ordered  to  be 
buried  quickty,  are  not  safe  from  the  clutches  of  our 
half-starving  Chinese  refugees.  .   .   . 

A  few  days  ago  a  number  of  ponies,  frightened  at  some 
sudden  roar  of  battle,  broke  loose  and  escaped  by  jump- 
ing over  in  a  marvellous  way  some  low  barricades  front- 


THE  EVER-GROWING  CASUALTY  LIST  221 

ing  the  canal  banks.  Caught  between  our  own  fire  and 
that  of  the  enemy,  and  unable  to  do  anything  but  gallop 
up  and  down  frantically  in  a  frightened  mob,  the  poor 
animals  excited  our  pity  for  days  without  our  being  able 
to  do  a  single  thing  towards  rescuing  them.  Gradually 
one  by  one  they  were  hit,  and  soon  their  festering 
carcases,  lying  swollen  in  the  sun,  added  a  little  more  to 
the  awful  stenches  which  now  surround  us.  Some  men 
volunteered  to  go  out  and  bury  them,  and  cautiously 
creeping  out,  shovel  in  hand,  just  as  night  fell,  once  more 
our  Peking  dust  was  requisitioned,  and  a  coverlet  of 
earth  spread  over  them. 

The  droves  of  ownerless  Peking  dogs  wandering  about 
and  creeping  in  and  out  of  every  hole  and  gap  are  also 
annoying  us  terribly.  These  pariahs,  abandoned  by  their 
masters,  who  have  fled  from  this  ruined  quarter  of  the 
city,  are  ravenous  with  hunger,  and  fight  over  the  bodies 
of  the  Chinese  dead,  and  dig  up  the  half-buried  horses; 
nothing  will  drive  them  away.  In  furious  bands  they 
rush  down  on  us  at  night,  sometimes  alarming  the  out- 
posts so  much  that  they  open  a  heavy  fire.  An  order 
given  to  shoot  every  one  of  them,  so  as  to  stop  these 
night  rushes,  has  been  carried  out,  but  no  matter  how 
many  we  kill,  more  push  forward,  frantic  with  hunger, 
and  tear  their  dead  comrades  to  pieces  in  front  of  our 
eyes.  It  is  becoming  a  horrible  warfare  in  this  bricked- 
in  battleground. 

Inside  our  lines  there  are  a  number  of  half-starving 
natives,  who  were  caught  by  the  storm  and  are  unable 
to  escape.  They  are  poor  people  of  the  coolie  classes, 
and  it  is  no  one's  business  to  care  for  them.  Several 
times  parties  of  them  have  attempted  to  sneak  out  and 
get  away,  but  each  time  they  have  been  seized  with 


222         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

panic,  and  have  fled  back,  willing  to  die  with  starvation 
sooner  than  be  riddled  by  the  enemy's  bullets.  The 
native  troops  beyond  our  lines  shoot  at  everything  that 
moves.  A  few  days  ago  an  old  ragpicker  was  seen  out- 
side the  Tartar  Wall  shambling  along  half  dazed 
towards  the  Water-Gate,  which  runs  in  under  the  Great 
Wall  into  the  dry  canal  in  our  centre.  The  Chinese 
sharpshooters  saw  him  and  must  have  thought  him  a 
messenger.  Soon  their  rifles  crashed  at  him,  and  the 
old  man  fell  hit,  but  remained  alive.  After  a  while  he 
raised  himself  on  his  hands  and  knees  and  began  crawl- 
ing towards  his  countrymen  like  a  poor,  stricken  dog, 
in  the  hope  that  they  would  spare  him  when  they  saw  his 
condition.  But  pitilessly  once  more  the  rifles  crashed 
out,  and  this  time  their  bullets  found  a  billet  in  his  vital 
parts,  for  the  beggar  rolled  over  and  remained  motion- 
less. There  he  now  lies  where  he  was  shot  down  in  the 
dust  and  dirt,  and  his  white  beard  and  his  rotting  rags 
seem  to  raise  a  silent  and  eloquent  protest  to  high 
Heaven  against  the  devilish  complots  which  are  racking 
Peking. 

The  feeding  of  our  native  Christians,  an  army  of 
nearly  two  thousand,  is  still  progressing,  but  babies  are 
dying  rapidly,  and  nothing  further  can  be  done. 

There  is  only  just  so  much  rice,  and  the  men  who  are 
doing  the  heavy  coolie  work  on  the  fortifications  must 
be  fed  better  than  the  rest  or  else  no  food  at  all  would 
be  needed.  .    .    . 

The  native  children,  with  hunger  gnawing  savagely  at 
their  stomachs,  wander  about  stripping  the  trees  of  their 
leaves  until  half  Prince  Su's  grounds  have  leafless 
branches.  Some  of  the  mothers  have  taken  all  the 
clothes  off  their  children  on  account  of  the  heat,  and 


THE  EVER-GROWING  CASUALTY  LIST  223 

their  terrible  water-swollen  stomachs  and  the  pitiful 
sticks  of  legs  eloquently  tell  their  own  tale.  Unable  to 
find  food,  all  are  drinking  enormous  quantities  of  water 
to  stave  off  the  pangs  of  hunger.  A  man  who  has  been 
in  India  says  that  all  drink  like  this  in  famine  time,  which 
inflates  the  stomach  to  a  dangerous  extent,  and  is  the 
forerunner  of  certain  death. 

To  the  babies  we  give  all  the  scraps  of  food  we  can 
gather  up  after  our  own  rough  food  is  eaten,  and  to  see 
the  little  disappointed  faces  when  there  is  nothing  is 
sadder  than  to  watch  the  wounded  being  carried  in.  If 
we  ever  get  out  we  have  some  heavy  scores  to  settle, 
and  some  of  our  rifles  will  speak  very  bitterly. 

Thus  enclosed  in  our  brick-bound  lines,  each  of  us  is 
spinning  out  his  fate.  The  Europeans  still  have  as 
much  food  as  they  need;  the  Chinese  are  half  starving; 
shot  and  shell  continue;  stinks  abound;  rotting  carcases 
lie  festering  in  the  sun;  our  command  is  looser  than 
ever.  It  is  the  merest  luck  we  are  still  holding  out. 
Perhaps  to-morrow  it  will  be  over.  In  any  case,  the 
glory  has  long  since  departed,  and  we  have  nothing  but 
brutal  realities. 


XV 

THE   ARMISTICE 

17th  July,  1900. 

•         •         •         •         •       '  • 

The  impossible  has  happened  at  the  eleventh  hour. 
Around  us  those  hoarse-throated  trumpets  have  been 
ringing  out  stentoriously  all  day.  How  blood-curdling 
they  sounded !  Calling  fiercely  and  insistently  to  one 
another,  this  barbaric  cease-fire  of  brass  trumpets  has 
grown  to  such  a  blood-curdling  roar  that  attention  had 
to  be  paid,  and  gradually  but  surely  the  rifles  have  been 
all  stilled  until  complete  and  absolute  silence  surrounds 
us.  At  last  diplomacy  in  the  far-away  outer  world  has 
made  itself  heard,  and  we  who  are  placed  in  the  very 
centre  of  this  Middle  Kingdom  of  China,  being  parleyed 
with  by  the  responsible  Chinese  Government.  It  has 
been  a  long  and  heart-breaking  wait,  but  it  is  always 
better  late  than  never. 

This  is  exactly  what  has  happened,  although  I  have 
only  just  learned  the  full  details.  On  the  14th — that 
is,  three  days  ago — a  native  messenger,  bearing  our 
tidings,  was  sent  out  in  fear  and  trembling,  induced  to 
attempt  to  reach  Tientsin  by  lavish  promises,  and  by  the 
urgency  of  missionary  entreaties.  But  instead  of  even 
getting  out  of  the  city,  the  messenger  was  captured, 
beaten,  and  detained  for  several  days  at  the  headquarters 
of  the  Manchu  commander-in-chief,  Jung  Lu,  in  the 
Imperial  city.     Then,  finally,  when  he  thought  that  he 


THE  ARMISTICE  225 

was  being  led  out  to  be  put  to  death,  he  was  brought 
back  to  our  barricades,  presenting  a  very  sorrowful 
appearance,  but  bearing  a  fateful  despatch  from  Prince 
Ching  and  all  the  members  of  the  Tsung-li  Yamen. 
This  despatch  had  nothing  very  sensational  in  it,  but 
it  marked  the  beginning.  It  merely  stated  that  soldiers 
and  bandits  had  been  fighting  during  the  last  few  days; 
that  the  accuracy  and  vigour  of  our  fire  had  created 
alarm  and  suspicion;  and  that,  in  consequence,  our  Min- 
isters and  their  staffs  were  invited  to  repair  at  once  to 
the  Tsung-li  Yamen,  where  they  would  be  properly  cared 
for.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  thousand  living  and  dead 
Europeans  and  the  two  thousand  native  Christians  within 
our  lines,  they  were  not  even  dignified  by  being  men- 
tioned. Most  people  inferred  from  this  that  by  some 
means  even  the  extremists  of  the  Chinese  Government 
had  realised  that  if  all  the  foreign  Ministers  were  killed, 
it  would  be  necessary  for  Europe  to  sacrifice  some  mem- 
bers of  the  Imperial  family. 

But  the  despatch,  although  its  terms  were  trivial  and 
even  childish,  had  a  vast  importance  for  us.  It  showed 
that  something  had  happened  somewhere  in  the  vague 
world  beyond  Peking — perhaps  that  armies  were  arriv- 
ing. We  were  reminded  that  we  were  still  alive.  A 
dignified  reply  was  sent,  and  the  very  next  day  came  an 
astonishing  Washington  cipher  message,  which  has  been 
puzzling  us  ever  since.  It  was  only  three  words :  "Com- 
municate to  bearer."  No  one  can  explain  what  these 
words  mean ;  even  the  American  Minister  has  cudgelled 
his  brains  in  vain,  and  asked  everybody's  opinion.  But 
about  one  thing  there  is  no  doubt — that  it  comes  straight 
from  Washington  untampered  with,  for  these  three 
words  are  in  a  secret  cipher,  which  only  half  a  dozen  of 


226         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

the  highest  American  officials  in  Washington  under- 
stand, and  in  Peking  there  is  no  one  excepting  the  Min- 
ister himself  who  has  the  key. 

This  is  absolutely  the  first  authentic  sign  we  have  had. 
If  the  reply  message  ever  gets  through,  public  opinion 
may  force  our  rescue.  .    .    . 

Finding  that  they  could  trust  us,  our  own  messenger 
has  been  followed  by  Chinese  Government  messengers, 
who,  tremblingly  waving  white  flags,  march  up  to  our 
barricades,  hand  in  their  messages,  and  crouch  down, 
waiting  to  be  given  a  safe-conduct  back. 

There  have  been  several  such  messages  delivered  at 
one  point  along  our  long  front  while  the  rifle  duel  was 
continuing  elsewhere  with  the  same  monotony.  Now 
those  trumpets,  gaining  confidence,  have  brought  abso- 
lute silence. 

At  first  there  was  only  this  absolute  silence.  It  seemed 
so  odd  and  curious  after  weeks  of  rifle-fire  and  booming 
of  old-fashioned  cannon,  that  that  alone  was  like  a  holi- 
day. Then,  as  every  one  seemed  to  realise  that  it  was  a 
truce,  men  began  standing  up  on  their  barricades  and 
waving  white  cloths  to  one  another. 

Both  sides  did  this  for  some  time,  and  as  no  one  fired,  a 
mutual  inquisitiveness  prompted  men  to  climb  over  their 
entrenched  positions  and  walk  out  boldly  into  the  open. 
Still  the  same  friendliness. 

By  mid-day  friendliness  and  confidence  had  reached 
such  a  point,  that  half  our  men  were  over  the  barricades, 
and  had  met  the  Chinese  soldiery  on  the  neutral  zone  of 
ruins  and  rubbish  extending  between  our  lines.  All  of 
us  left  our  rifles  behind,  and  stowed  revolvers  into  our 
shirts  lest  treachery  suddenly  surprised  us  and  found  us 
defenceless.     I  placed  an  army  revolver  in  my  trousers 


THE  ARMISTICE  227 

pocket,  with  a  vague  idea  that  I  would  attempt  the 
prairie  trick  of  shooting  through  my  clothing  if  there 
was  any  need  to  resort  to  force.  I  soon  found  that  this 
was  unnecessary. 

Boldly  walking  forward,  we  pushed  right  up  to  the 
Chinese  barricades.  Nothing  surprised  us  so  much  as 
to  see  the  great  access  of  strength  to  the  Chinese  posi- 
tions since  the  early  days  of  the  siege.  Not  only  were  we 
now  securely  hedged  in  by  frontal  trenches  and  barri- 
cades, but  flanking  such  Chinese  positions  were  great 
numbers  of  parallel  defences,  designed  solely  with  the 
object  of  battering  our  sortie  parties  to  pieces  should  we 
attempt  to  take  the  offensive  again.  Lining  these  barri- 
cades and  improvised  forts  were  hundreds  of  men,  all 
with  their  faces  bronzed  by  the  sun,  and  with  their  heads 
encased  in  black  cloth  fighting  caps.  Relieving  the 
sombre  aspect  of  this  headgear  were  numbers  of 
brightly  coloured  tunics,  betokening  the  various  corps  to 
which  this  soldiery  belonged.  What  a  wonderful  sight 
they  made  !  There  were  Tung  Fu-hsiang's  artillerymen, 
with  violet  embroidered  coats  and  blue  trousers;  dis- 
mounted cavalry  detachments  belonging  to  the  same 
commander  in  red  and  black  tunics  and  red  "tiger 
skirts";  Jung  Lu's  Peking  Field  Force;  Manchu  Ban- 
nermen;  provincial  levies  and  many  others.  All  these 
men,  standing  up  on  the  top  of  their  fortifications,  made 
a  most  brilliant  picture,  and  we  looked  long  and  eagerly. 
I  wish  some  painter  of  genius  could  have  been  there  and 
caught  that  message.  For  there  were  skulls  and  bones 
littering  the  ground,  and  representing  all  that  remained 
of  the  dead  enemy  after  the  pariah  dogs  had  fin- 
ished with  them.  Broken  rifles  and  thousands  of  empty 
brass  cartridge  cases  added  to  the  battered  look  of  this 


228  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

fiercely  contested  area,  and  down  the  streets  the  remains 
of  every  native  house  had  been  heaped  together  in  rude 
imitation  of  a  fort,  with  jagged  loopholes  placed  at  in- 
tervals of  eight  or  ten  inches,  allowing  any  number  of 
rifles  to  be  brought  into  play  against  us  under  secure 
cover.  The  men  who  had  manned  these  defences  had 
left  their  rifles  where  they  were,  and  by  peering  over  we 
could  see  that  the  majority  of  these  firepieces  were  tied 
into  position  by  means  of  wooden  forks  so  as  to  bear 
a  converging  fire  on  the  exposed  points  of  our  defences. 
Only  then  did  I  realise  how  much  a  protracted  resistance 
places  an  attacking  force  on  the  defensive.  We  were 
afraid  of  one  another.  Sauntering  about,  some  of  the 
enemy  were  willing  to  enter  into  conversation.  A  num- 
ber of  things  they  told  filled  us  with  surprise,  and  made 
us  begin  to  understand  the  complexity  of  the  situation 
around  us.  The  Shansi  levies  and  Tung  Fu-hsiang's 
men — that  is,  all  the  soldiery  from  the  provinces — had 
but  little  idea  of  why  they  were  attacking  us;  they  had 
been  sent,  they  said,  to  prevent  us  from  breaking  into  the 
Palace  and  killing  their  Emperor. 

If  the  foreigners  had  not  brought  so  many  foreign 
soldiers  into  Peking,  there  would  have  been  no  fight- 
ing. They  did  not  want  to  fight.  .  .  .  They  did  not 
want  to  be  killed.  .   .   . 

Somebody  tried  to  explain  to  them  that  the  Boxers  had 
brought  it  all  on.  But  to  this  they  answered  that  the 
Boxers  were  finished,  driven  away,  discredited;  there 
were  none  left  in  Peking,  and  why  did  we  not  send  our 
own  soldiers  away,  who  had  been  killing  so  many  of 
them.  Such  things  they  repeated  time  without  number; 
it  was  their  only  point  of  view. 

The  morning  passed  away  in  this  wise,  but  there  were 


THE  ARMISTICE  229 

several  contretemps  which  nearly  led  to  the  spilling  of 
blood.  In  one  case,  an  English  marine  tried  to  take  a 
watermelon  from  a  soldier,  who  was  very  anxious  to 
sell  it;  but  as  the  latter  would  not  give  it  up  without 
immediate  payment,  the  marine  thumped  his  head  and 
then  knocked  him  over.  Every  one  rushed  for  their 
rifles,  but  some  of  us  shouted  for  silence,  and  going  over 
to  the  marine,  whispered  to  him  to  keep  quiet  while  we 
tied  up  his  hands.  We  told  him  to  march  back  into  our 
lines,  and  informed  our  audience  that  he  would  be 
beaten,  and  that  the  man  who  had  been  knocked  over 
would  get  a  dollar.  We  managed  by  this  crude  acting 
to  save  an  open  rupture,  but  it  was  plain  that  the  rank 
and  file  must  not  be  allowed  to  mix.  We  managed 
eventually  to  restore  a  semblance  of  good-fellowship  by 
purchasing  at  very  heavy  prices  a  great  number  of  eggs. 
The  women,  the  children,  and  the  wounded  have  been 
long  in  want  of  eggs  and  fresh  food,  and  we  knew 
that  these  would  do  a  great  many  people  good. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  a  result  of  this  extraordinary 
fraternising,  a  very  singular  thing  occurred  along  the 
French  front,  where  the  bitter  fighting  has  rebounded 
into  a  hot  friendship.  A  French  volunteer,  who  is  as 
dare-devil  as  many  of  his  friends,  suddenly  climbed  over 
the  Chinese  barricades  and  shouted  back  that  he  was 
going  away  on  a  visit.  They  tried  to  make  him  return, 
but  in  spite  of  a  little  hesitation,  he  went  on  climbing  and 
getting  farther  and  farther  away.  Then  he  suddenly 
disappeared  for  good.  Nobody  expected  to  see  him 
alive  again,  and  everybody  put  it  down  to  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  incipient  madness  which  is  affecting  a  num- 
ber of  men.    .    .    . 

But   two   hours  afterwards   a  letter   came    from   the 


230         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

French  volunteer.  It  merely  said  that  he  was  in  Jung 
Lu's  camp,  having  an  excellent  time.  Very  late  in  the 
evening  he  came  back  himself.  In  spite  of  the  fool- 
hardiness  of  the  whole  thing  his  news  was  the  most  val- 
uable we  had  received. 

It  shows  us  plainly  that  not  only  has  something  hap- 
pened elsewhere,  but  that  the  Boxer  plan  is  miscarrying 
in  Peking  itself. 

The  young  Frenchman  had  been  really  well  treated,  fed 
with  Chinese  cakes  and  fruit,  and  given  excellent  tea  to 
drink.  Then  he  had  been  led  direct  to  Jung  Lu's  head- 
quarters, and  closely  questioned  by  the  generalissimo 
himself  as  to  our  condition,  our  provisions,  and  the 
number  of  men  we  had  lost.  He  had  replied,  he  said, 
that  we  were  having  a  charming  time,  and  that  we  only 
needed  some  ice  and  some  fruit  to  make  us  perfectly 
happy,  even  in  the  great  summer  heat.  Thereupon  Jung 
Lu  had  filled  his  pockets  with  peaches  and  ordered  his 
servants  to  tie  up  watermelons  in  a  piece  of  cloth  for  him 
to  carry  back.  Jung  Lu  finally  bade  him  good-bye,  with 
the  significant  words  that  his  own  personal  troops  on 
whom  he  could  rely  would  attempt  to  protect  the  Lega- 
tions, but  added  that  it  was  very  difficult  to  do  so  as 
every  one  was  fearful  for  their  own  heads,  and  dare  not 
show  too  much  concern  for  the  foreigner.  This  makes 
it  absolutely  plain  that  this  extraordinary  armistice  is 
the  result  of  a  whole  series  of  events  which  we  cannot 
even  imagine.  It  is  like  that  curious  affair  of  the  Board 
of  Truce,  but  much  more  definite.     It  means  .   .   .  what 

the   devil   does   it   mean?     After   S 's   mysterious 

disappearance,  when  he  was  only  a  day's  march  from 
Peking — a  month  ago — it  is  useless  to  attempt  any  specu- 
lations.   How  long  will  this  last?   ...  In  the  evening, 


THE  ARMISTICE  231 

when  we  had  exhausted  the  discussion  of  every  possible 
theory,  somebody  remarked  on  the  silence.  I  will  al- 
ways remember  how,  for  some  inexplicable  reason,  that 
remark  annoyed  me  immensely — made  me  nervous  and 
angry.  Perhaps  it  was  that  after  weeks  of  rifle-fire  and 
cannon  booming,  the  colourless  monotone  of  complete 
silence  was  nerve-destroying.  Yes,  it  must  have  been 
that;  a  perpetual,  aggravating,  insolent  silence  is  worse 
than  noise.  .  .  .  But  this  will  mean  nothing  to  you;  ex- 
perience alone  teaches. 


XVI 

THE  RESUMPTION  OF  A  SEMI-DIPLOMATIC  LIFE 

20th  July,  1900. 


The  third  phase  continues  unabated,  with  nothing  even 
to  enliven  it.  Despatches  in  Chinese  from  nowhere  in 
particular  continue  to  drop  in  from  the  Tsung-li  Yamen; 
pen  had  been  put  to  paper,  and  the  despatches  have  been 
duly  answered,  leaving  the  position  unchanged.  I  have 
been  even  requisitioned,  rebelliously,  I  will  confess,  to 
turn  my  hand  to  despatch  writing;  but  my  fingers,  so 
long  accustomed  only  to  rifle-bolts  and  triggers,  and  a 
clumsy  wielding  of  entrenching  tools,  produce  such  a 
hideous  caligraphic  result,  that  I  have  been  coldly  ex- 
cused from  further  attempts.  It  is  incredible  that  one 
should  so  easily  forget  how  to  write  properly,  but  it  is 
nevertheless  true — eight  weeks  in  the  trenches  will  break 
the  best  hand  in  the  world.  An  ordinary  man  would 
think  that  what  I  write  now  is  in  a  secret  cipher! 

But  of  diplomatic  life.  All  these  despatches  which 
come  in  are  in  the  same  monotonous  tone;  they  are  en- 
treaties and  appeals  to  evacuate  the  Legations  and  place 
ourselves  under  the  benevolent  care  of  the  Tsung-li 
Yamen,  to  come  speedily  before  it  is  too  late.  Of 
course,  not  even  our  Ministers  will  go. 

But  there  is  more  news,  although  it  is  not  quite  cheer- 
ing or  definite.  On  the  18th  the  Japanese  received  a 
message  direct  from  Tientsin,  giving  information  to  the 


RESUMPTION  OF  SEMI-DIPLOMATIC  LIFE  233 

effect  that  thirty  thousand  troops  were  assembling  there 
for  a  general  advance  on  Peking.  They  say  that  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight  may  see  us  relieved,  but  somehow 
the  Japanese  are  not  very  hopeful. 

On  this  same  date  came  a  secretary  from  the  Tsung-li 
Yamen  in  person,  accompanied  by  a  trembling  t'ingoh'ai, 
or  card-bearer,  frantically  waving  the  white  flag  of 
truce.  They  must  been  very  frightened,  for  never 
have  I  seen  such  convulsiveness.  The  secretary,  walk- 
ing quickly  with  spasmodic  steps,  held  tight  to  the 
arm  of  his  official  servant,  and  made  him  wave,  wave, 
wave  that  white  flag  of  truce  until  it  became  pitiful. 

Thus  preceded,  the  Tsung-li  Yamen  secretary  advanced 
to  the  main-gate  blockhouse  of  the  British  Legation, 
where  he  was  curtly  stopped,  given  a  chair,  and  told  to 
await  the  arrival  of  the  Ministers,  or  such  as  proposed 
to  see  him.  Seated  just  outside  this  evil-smelling  dun- 
geon— for  the  blockhouse,  encased  in  huge  sand-bags, 
is  full  of  dirt  and  ruins  and  has  many  smells — the  feel- 
ings of  this  representative  of  the  Chinese  Government 
must  have  been  charmingly  mixed.  Near  by  were  grimy 
and  work-worn  men,  in  all  manner  of  attire,  with  their 
rifles;  in  the  dry  canal  alongside  were  rude  structures 
of  brick  and  overturned  Peking  carts,  line  upon  line, 
thrown  down  and  heaped  up  to  block  the  enemy's  long- 
expected  charges;  and  on  all  sides  were  such  stenches  and 
refuse — all  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  cast  up  by  our  sea  of 
troubles.  Until  then  I  did  not  realise  how  many  car- 
cases, fragments  of  broken  weapons,  empty  cartridge 
cases,  broken  bottles,  torn  clothing,  and  a  hundred  other 
things  were  lying  about.  It  was  a  sordid  picture. 
Presently  the  British  Minister,  in  his  capacity  of  com- 
mander-in-chief and  protector  of  the  other  Ministers, 


234         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

came  out  and  took  his  seat  by  the  side  of  his  guest,  an 
interpreter  standing  beside  him  to  help  the  interview. 
Then  the  French  Minister  approached  and  insinuated 
himself  into  the  droll  council  of  peace;  the  Spanish  Min- 
ister, as  doyen,  also  appeared,  and  one  or  two  others. 
But  those  Ministers  who  are  without  Legations,  who  so 
uncomfortably  resemble  their  colleagues  at  home — 
those  without  portfolios — formed  a  group  in  the  middle 
distance,  humble  as  men  only  are  who  have  to  rely  upon 
bounty.  I  saw  the  Belgian  Minister  and  the  Italian 
Charge  for  the  first  time  for  several  weeks.  My  own 
chief  was  also  there,  rubbing  his  hands,  trying  to  seem 
natural.  The  interview  proceeded  apace,  and  as  far 
as  we  could  judge  there  were  no  noticeable  results. 

There  were  assurances  on  both  sides,  regrets,  the  croco- 
dile tears  of  diplomacy,  and  vague  threats.  All  our 
Ministers  seemed  comforted  to  feel  that  diplomacy  still 
existed — that  there  was  still  a  world  in  which  protocols 
were  binding.  And  yet  nothing  definite  could  be  learned 
from  this  Yamen  secretary.  He  said  that  every  one 
would  be  protected,  but  that  the  "bandits"  were  still 
very  strong.  After  this  official  interview,  other  private 
interviews  took  place.  Buglers  and  orderlies  from  the 
Chinese  generals  around  us  trooped  in  on  us  for  un- 
known reasons.  Three  came  over  the  German  barri- 
cades, and  were  led  blindfolded  to  the  British  Legation 
to  be  cross-questioned  and  examined.  One  trumpeter 
said  that  his  general  wished  for  an  interview  with  one 
of  our  generals  at  the  great  Ha-ta  Gate,  where  were  his 
headquarters.  He  wished  to  discuss  military  matters. 
Other  men  came  in  a  big  deputation  to  the  little  Japanese 
colonel,  and  said  they  wanted  an  interview  too.  It 
means  the  temporary  resumption  of  a  species  of  diplo- 


RESUMPTION  OF  SEMI-DIPLOMATIC  LIFE  235 

matic  life.  I  suppose  it  is  in  the  air,  and  everybody  likes 
the  change.  Yesterday,  too,  came  another  despatch 
from  Prince  Ching  and  others — as  these  letters  are  now 
always  curiously  signed,  the  lesser  men  hiding  their 
identity  in  this  way — asking  the  Ministers  once  more  to 
do  something  impossible ;  and  once  more  a  despatch  has 
gone  back,  saying  that  we  are  perfectly  happy  to  remain 
where  we  are,  only  we  would  like  some  vegetables  and 
fruit.  .  .  .  And  so,  to-day,  four  cartloads  of  melons 
and  cabbages  have  actually  come  with  the  Empress 
Dowager's  own  compliments.  The  melons  looked  beau- 
tifully red  and  ripe,  and  the  cabbages  of  perfect  green 
after  this  drab-coloured  life.  But  many  people  would 
not  eat  of  this  Imperial  gift;  they  feared  being  poisoned. 
More  despatches  from  Europe  have  also  been  trans- 
mitted— notably  a  cipher  one  to  the  French  Minister, 
saying  that  fifteen  thousand  French  troops  have  left 
France.  Evidently  a  change  has  taken  place  some- 
where. 

But  while  these  pourparlers  are  proceeding,  some  of  us 
are  not  at  all  quieted.  Fortification  of  the  inner  lines  is 
going  on  harder  than  ever.  The  entire  British  Lega- 
tion has  now  walls  of  immense  strength,  with  miniature 
blockhouses  at  regular  intervals,  and  a  system  of 
trenches.  If  our  advanced  posts  have  to  fall  back  they 
may  be  able  to  hold  this  Legation  for  a  few  days  in  spite 
of  the  artillery  fire.  French  digging,  in  the  form  of  very 
narrow  and  very  deep  cuts  designed  to  stop  the  enemy's 
possible  mining,  is  being  planned  and  carried  out  every- 
where, and  soon  the  general  asylum  will  be  even  more 
secure  than  it  has  been  since  the  beginning.  Un- 
doubtedly we  are  just  marking  time — stamping  audibly 
with  our  diplomatic  feet  to  reassure  ourselves,  and  to 


236         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

show  that  we  are  still  alive.  For  in  spite  of  all  this  ap- 
parent friendliness,  which  was  heralded  with  such  an 
outburst  of  shaking  hands  and  smiling  faces,  there  have 
already  been  a  number  of  little  acts  of  treachery  along 
the  lines,  showing  that  the  old  spirit  lurks  underneath 
just  as  strong. 

In  the  Northern  Hanlin  posts  which  skirt  the  British 
Legation,  a  black-faced  Bannerman  held  up  a  green 
melon  in  one  hand,  and  signalled  with  the  other  to  one 
of  our  men  to  advance  and  receive  this  gift.  Our  man 
dropped  his  rifle,  and  was  sliding  a  leg  over  his  barri- 
cade, when  with  a  swish  a  bullet  went  through  the  folds 
of  his  shirt — the  nearest  shave  he  had  ever  had.  The 
volunteer  dropped  back  to  his  side,  and  then,  after  a 
while,  waved  an  empty  tin  in  his  hand  as  a  notice  that 
he  desired  a  resumption  of  friendly  relations.  The  Chi- 
nese brave  cautiously  put  his  head  up,  and  once  again, 
with  a  crack,  the  compliment  was  returned,  and  the 
soldier  was  slightly  wounded,  and  now  we  only  peer 
through  our  loopholes  and  are  careful  of  our  heads. 
The  novelty  of  the  armistice  is  wearing  off,  and  we  feel 
that  we  are  only  gaining  time. 

Still,  we  are  improving  our  position.  There  is  a  more 
friendly  feeling  among  the  commands  in  our  lines,  and 
the  various  contingents  are  being  redistributed.  By 
bribing  the  Yamen  messenger,  copies  of  the  Peking 
Gazette  have  been  obtained,  and  from  these  it  is  evident 
that  something  has  happened.  For  all  the  decreeing 
and  counter-decreeing  of  the  early  Boxer  days  have  be- 
gun again,  and  the  all-powerful  Boxers  with  their 
boasted  powers  are  being  rudely  treated.  It  is  evident 
that  they  are  no  longer  believed  in ;  that  the  situation  in 
and  around  Peking  is  changing  from  day  to  day.     The 


RESUMPTION  OF  SEMI-DIPLOMATIC  LIFE  237 

Boxers,  having  shown  themselves  incompetent,  are  reap- 
ing the  whirlwind.    They  must  soon  entirely  disappear. 

It  is  even  two  weeks  since  the  last  one  was  shot  outside 
the  Japanese  lines  at  night,  and  now  there  is  nothing 
but  regular  soldiery  encamped  around  us.  This  last 
Boxer  was  a  mere  boy  of  fifteen,  who  had  stripped  stark 
naked  and  smeared  himself  all  over  with  oil  after  the 
manner  of  Chinese  thieves,  so  that  if  he  came  into  our 
clutches  no  hands  would  be  able  to  hold  him  tight.  The 
most  daring  ones  have  always  been  boys.  He  had  crept 
fearlessly  right  up  to  the  Japanese  posts  armed  only  with 
matches  and  a  stone  bottle  of  kerosene,  with  which  he 
purposed  to  set  buildings  on  fire  and  thus  destroy  a  link 
in  our  defences.  This  is  always  the  Boxer  policy.  But 
the  Japanese,  as  usual,  were  on  the  alert.  They  let  the 
youthful  Boxer  approach  to  within  a  few  feet  of  their 
rifles — a  thin  shadow  of  a  boy  faintly  stirring  in  the 
thick  gloom.  Then  flames  of  fire  spurted  out,  and  a 
thud  told  the  sentries  that  their  bullets  had  gone  home. 

When  morning  came  we  went  out  and  inspected  the 
corpse,  and  marvelled  at  the  terrible  muzzle  velocity  of 
the  modern  rifle.  One  bullet  had  gone  through  the 
chest,  and  tiny  pin-heads  of  blood  near  the  breast-bone 
and  between  the  shoulders  was  all  the  trace  that  had  been 
left.  But  the  second  pencil  of  nickel-plated  lead  had 
struck  the  fanatic  on  the  forearm,  and  instead  of  boring 
through,  had  knocked  out  a  clean  wedge  of  flesh,  half 
an  inch  thick  and  three  inches  deep,  just  as  you  would 
chip  out  a  piece  of  wood  from  a  plank.  There  was 
nothing  unseemly  in  it  all,  death  had  come  so  sud- 
denly. The  blows  had  been  so  tremendous,  and  death 
so  instantaneous,  that  there  had  been  no  bleeding. 

It  was  extraordinary. 


238         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

Meanwhile,  from  the  Pei-t'ang  we  can  still  plainly  hear 
a  distant  cannonade  sullenly  booming  in  the  hot  air. 
We  have  breathing  space,  but  they,  poor  devils,  are  still 
being  thundered  at.  No  one  can  understand  how  they 
have  held  out  so  long. 

Our  losses,  now  that  we  have  time  to  go  round  and 
find  out  accurately,  seem  appalling.  The  French  have 
lost  forty-two  killed  and  wounded  out  of  a  force  of 
fifty  sailors  and  sixteen  volunteers;  the  Japanese,  forty- 
five  out  of  a  band  of  sixty  sailors  and  Japanese  and  mis- 
cellaneous volunteers ;  the  Germans  have  thirty  killed  and 
wounded  out  of  fifty-four;  and  in  all  there  have  been 
one  hundred  and  seventy  casualties  of  all  classes.  Many 
of  the  slightly  wounded  have  returned  already  to  their 
posts,  but  these  men  have  nothing  like  the  spirit  they 
had  before  they  were  shot. 

The  shell  holes  and  number  of  shells  fired  are  also 
being  counted  up.  The  little  Hotel  de  Pekin,  standing 
high  up  just  behind  the  French  lines,  has  been  the  most 
struck.  It  is  simply  torn  to  pieces  and  has  hundreds  of 
holes  in  it.  Altogether  some  three  thousand  shells  have 
been  thrown  at  us  and  found  a  lodgment.  The  wreck- 
age round  the  outer  fringe  is  appalling,  and  in  this  pres- 
ent calm  scarcely  believable.  Another  three  thousand 
shells  will  bring  everything  flat  to  the  ground. 


XVII 

DIPLOMACY  CONTINUES 

24th  July,  1900. 


The  situation  is  practically  unchanged,  and  there  is 
devilish  little  to  write  about.  During  the  last  two  or 
three  days  no  Chinese  soldiers  have  been  coming  in  to 
parley  with  us,  except  in  one  or  two  isolated  instances. 
Cautious  reconnaissances  of  two  or  three  men  creeping 
out  at  a  time,  pushing  out  as  far  as  possible,  have  dis- 
covered that  the  enemy  is  nothing  like  as  numerous  as 
he  was  at  the  beginning  of  this  armistice. 

Some  of  his  barricades  seem  even  abandoned,  and 
stand  lonely  and  quite  silent  without  any  of  the  gaudily 
clothed  soldiery  to  enliven  them  by  occasionally  standing 
up  and  waving  us  their  doubtful  greetings.  But,  curious 
contradiction,  although  some  barricades  have  been  prac- 
tically abandoned,  others  are  being  erected  very  cau- 
tiously, very  quietly,  and  without  any  ostentation,  as  if  the 
enemy  were  preparing  for  eventualities  which  he  knows 
must  inevitably  occur.  Sometimes,  too,  there  is  even  a 
little  crackle  of  musketry  in  some  remote  corner,  which 
remains  quite  unexplained.  A  secret  traffic  in  eggs  and 
ammunition  is  still  going  on  with  renegade  soldiery  from 
Tung  Fu-hsiang's  camp;  but  no  longer  can  these  things 
be  purchased  openly,  for  a  Chinese  commander  has  be- 
headed several  men  for  this  treachery,  and  threatens 
to  resume  fighting  if  his  soldiers  are  tampered  with. 


240  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

But  there  is  another  piece  of  curious  news.  A  spy  has 
come  in  and  offered  to  report  the  movements  of  the 
European  army  of  relief,  which  he  alleges  has  already 
left  Tientsin  and  is  pushing  back  dense  bodies  of 
Chinese  troops.  This  offer  has  been  accepted,  and  the 
man  has  been  given  a  sackful  of  dollars  from  Prince 
Su's  treasure-rooms.  He  is  to  report  every  day,  and 
to  be  paid  as  richly  as  he  cares  if  he  gives  us  the  truth. 
Some  people  say  he  can  only  be  a  liar,  who  will  trim 
his  sails  to  whatever  breezes  he  meets.  But  the  Japanese, 
who  have  arranged  with  him,  are  not  so  sceptical;  they 
think  that  something  of  importance  may  be  learned. 

Down  near  the  Water-Gate,  which  runs  under  the 
Tartar  Wall,  the  miserable  natives  imprisoned  by  our 
warfare  are  in  a  terrible  state  of  starvation.  Their 
bones  are  cracking  through  their  skin;  their  eyes  have 
an  insane  look;  yet  nothing  is  being  done  for  them. 
They  are  afraid  to  attempt  escape  even  in  this  quiet, 
as  the  Water-Gate  is  watched  on  the  outside  night  and 
day  by  Chinese  sharpshooters.  It  is  the  last  gap  leading 
to  the  outer  world  which  is  still  left  open.  Tortured  by 
the  sight  of  these  starving  wretches,  who  moan  and 
mutter  night  and  day,  the  posts  near  by  shoot  down 
dogs  and  crows  and  drag  them  there.  They  say  every- 
thing is  devoured  raw  with  cannibal-like  cries.  .    .    . 

The  position  is  therefore  unchanged.  We  have  had  a 
week's  quiet,  and  some  letters  from  the  Tsung-li  Yamen, 
which  assures  us  of  their  distinguished  consideration,  yet 
we  are  just  as  isolated  and  as  uneasy  as  we  were  before. 
This  solitude  is  becoming  killing. 


XVIII 

THE  UNREST  GROWS  AND  DIPLOMACY  CONTINUES 

27th  July,   1900. 


It  is  not  so  peaceful  as  it  was.  Trumpet  calls  have 
been  blaring  outside;  troops  have  been  seen  moving 
in  big  bodies  with  great  banners  in  their  van;  the  Im- 
perial world  of  Peking  is  in  great  tumult;  the  soldier-spy 
alleges  new  storms  must  be  brewing. 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  the  Tsung-li  Yamen  messen- 
gers now  come  and  go  with  a  certain  regularity.  This 
curious  diplomatic  correspondence  must  be  piling  up. 
Even  the  messengers,  who  at  first  suffered  such  agonies 
of  doubt  as  they  approached  our  lines,  frantically  wav- 
ing their  flags  of  truce  and  fearing  our  rifles,  are  now 
quite  accustomed  to  their  work,  and  are  becoming  com- 
municative in  a  cautious,  curious  Chinese  way  which 
hints  at  rather  than  boldly  states.  They  tell  us  that  our 
barricades  can  only  be  approached  with  some  sense  of 
safety  from  the  eastern  side — that  is,  the  Franco- 
German  quarter;  in  other  quarters  they  may  be  fired 
on  and  killed  by  their  own  people.  The  Peking  troops, 
who  can  be  still  controlled  by  Prince  Ching  and  the 
Tsung-li  Yamen,  are  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  enclosing 
squares  of  barricades;  elsewhere  there  are  field  forces 
from  other  provinces — men  who  cannot  be  trusted,  and 
who  would  massacre  the  messengers  as  soon  as  they 
would  us,  although  they  are  clad  in  official  dress  and  rep- 


242         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

resent  the  highest  authority  in  the  Empire.  This  posi- 
tion is  very  strange. 

But  more  ominous  than  all  the  trumpet  calls  and  the 
large  movements  of  troops  which  have  been  spied  from 
the  top  of  the  lofty  Tartar  Wall,  are  the  tappings  and 
curious  little  noises  underground.  Everywhere  these 
little  noises  are  being  heard,  always  along  the  outskirts 
of  our  defence.  It  must  be  that  the  mining  of  the 
French  Legation  is  looked  upon  as  so  successful,  that 
the  Chinese  feel  that  could  they  but  reach  every  point  of 
our  outworks  with  black  powder  placed  in  narrow  sub- 
terranean passages,  they  would  speedily  blow  us  into  an 
ever  narrower  ring,  until  there  was  only  that  left  of  us 
which  could  be  calmly  destroyed  by  shells.  We  now  oc- 
cupy such  an  extended  area,  and  are  so  well  entrenched, 
that  shelling,  although  nerve-wracking,  has  lost  almost 
all  its  power  and  terror.  Were  Chinese  commanders 
united  in  their  purpose  and  their  men  faithful  to  them, 
a  few  determined  rushes  would  pierce  our  loose  forma- 
tion. As  it  is,  it  is  our  salvation.  In  the  quiet  of  the 
night  all  the  outposts  hear  this  curious  tapping.  It  is 
heard  along  the  French  lines,  along  the  German  lines, 
along  the  Japanese  lines,  and  all  round  the  north  of  the 
British  Legation.  Were  we  to  remain  quiescent  the 
armistice  might  be  suddenly  broken  some  day  by  all  our 
fighting  men  being  hoisted  into  the  air.  Our  counter- 
action has,  however,  already  commenced. 

For  while  the  enemy  is  pushing  his  lines  cunningly  and 
rapidly  under  our  walls  and  outworks,  we  are  running 
out  counter-mines  under  his — at  least,  we  are  attempting 
this  by  plunging  a  great  depth  into  the  earth,  and  only 
beginning  to  drive  horizontally  many  feet  below  the 
surface  line.     Hundreds  of  men  are  on  this  work,  but 


UNREST  GROWS— DIPLOMACY  CONTINUES       243 

the  Peking  soil  is  not  generous;  it  is,  indeed,  a  cursed 
soil.  On  top  there  are  thick,  layers  of  dust — that 
terrible  Peking  dust  which  is  so  rapidly  converted  into 
such  clinging  slush  by  a  few  minutes'  rain.  Then  imme- 
diately below,  for  eight  feet  or  so,  there  is  a  curious  soil 
full  of  stones  and  debris,  which  must  mean  something 
geologically,  but  which  no  one  can  explain.  Finally,  at 
about  a  fathom  and  a  half  there  is  a  sea  of  despond — the 
real  and  solid  substratum,  thick,  tightly  bound  clay, 
which  has  to  be  pared  off  in  thin  slices  just  as  you  would 
do  with  very  old  cheese.  This  is  work  which  breaks 
your  hands  and  your  back.  Somebody  must  do  it,  how- 
ever; the  same  men  who  do  everything  help  this  along 
as  well.  .    .    . 

With  all  this  mining  going  on  many  curious  finds  are 
being  made,  which  give  something  to  talk  about.  In 
one  place,  ten  feet  below  the  surface,  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  ancient  stone  cannon-balls  have  been  found, 
which  must  go  back  very  many  centuries.  Some  say  they 
are  six  hundred  years  and  more  old,  because  the  Mongol 
conqueror,  Kublai  Khan,  who  built  the  Tartar  City  of 
Peking,  lived  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  these  cannon- 
balls  lie  beneath  where  tilled  fields  must  then  have  been. 
Are  they  traces  of  a  forgotten  siege?  In  other  places 
splendid  drains  have  been  bared — drains  four  feet  high 
and  three  broad,  which  run  everywhere.  Once,  when 
Marco  Polo  was  young,  Peking  must  have  been  a  fit  and 
proper  place,  and  the  magnificent  streets  magnificently 
clean.     Now  .   .    .   ! 

To-day  the  soldier-spy  has  brought  in  news  that  the 
Court  is  preparing  to  flee,  because  of  the  approach  of 
our  avenging  armies,  and  that  the  moving  troops  and 
the    hundreds    of    carts    which    can    be    seen    picking 


244         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

their  way  through  the  burned  and  ruined  Ch'ien  Men 
great  street  in  the  Chinese  city  will  all  be  engaged  in 
this  flight.  Our  troops  are  advancing  steadily,  he  says, 
driving  everything  before  them.  Still  no  one  believes 
thesr  stories  very  much.  We  have  had  six  weeks  of  it 
now,  and  several  distinct  phases.  Somehow  it  seems  im- 
poss  ble  that  the  whole  tragedy  should  end  in  this  un- 
finished way — that  thousands  of  European  troops 
should  march  in  unmolested  and  find  us  as  we  are.  .  .  . 
Th^re  is  practically  no  day  duty  now  and  very  easy  work 
at  night.  One  can  have  a  good  sleep  now,  but  even  this 
sesms  strange  and  out  of  place. 


XIX 

THE  FIRST  REAL  NEWS 

28th  July,  1900. 


Something    has    again    happened,    something    of   the 
highest  importance.     A  courier  from  Tientsin  has  ar- 
rived at  last — a  courier  who  slipped  into  our  lines,  de- 
livered his  quill  of  a  message  which  had  been  rolled  up 
and  plaited  into  his  hair  for  many  days,  and  is  now  sit- 
ting and  fanning  himself — a  thin  slip  of  a  native  boy, 
who  has  travelled  all  the  way  down  that  long  Tientsin 
road  and  all  the  way  back  again  for  a  very  small  earthly 
reward.     A  curious  figure  this  messenger  bringing  news 
from  the  outside  world  made  as  he  sat  calmly  fanning 
himself  with  the  stoicism  of  his  race.     Nobody  hurried 
him  or  questioned  him  much  after  he  had  delivered  his 
paper;  he  was  left  to  rest  himself,  and  when  he  was  cool 
he  began  to  speak.     I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him;  it 
seemed  to  me  at  once  a  message  and  a  sermon — a  ser- 
mon for  those  who  are  so  afraid.    The  little  pictures  this 
boy  dropped  out  in  jerks  showed  us  that  there  were 
worse  terrors  than  being  sealed  in  by  brickwork.     He 
had  been  twenty-four  days  travelling  up  and  down  the 
eighty  miles  of  the  Tientsin  road,  and  four  times  he  had 
been  caught,  beaten,  and  threatened  with  death.    Every- 
where there  were  marauding  bands  of  Boxers;  every 
village  was  hung  with  red  cloth  and  pasted  with  Boxer 
legends;  and  each  time  he  had  been  captured  he  had 


246         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

been  cruelly  beaten,  because  he  had  no  excuse.  Once  he 
was  tied  up  and  made  to  work  for  days  at  a  village  inn. 
Then  he  escaped  at  night,  and  went  on  quickly,  travel- 
ling by  night  across  the  fields.  Somehow,  by  stealing 
food,  he  finally  reached  Tientsin.  The  native  city  was 
full  of  Chinese  troops  and  armed  Boxers;  beyond  were 
the  Europeans.  There  was  nothing  but  fighting  and  dis- 
order and  a  firing  of  big  guns.  By  moving  slowly  he 
had  broken  into  the  country  again,  and  gained  an  out- 
post of  European  troops,  who  captured  him  and  took 
him  into  the  camps.  Then  he  had  delivered  his  message, 
and  received  the  one  he  had  brought  back.  That  is  all; 
it  had  taken  twenty- four  days.  This  he  repeated  many 
times,  for  everybody  came  and  wished  to  hear.  It  was 
plain  that  many  felt  secretly  ashamed,  and  wished  that 
there  would  be  time  to  redeem  their  reputations.  There 
would  be  that ! 

For  about  then  some  one  came  out  from  headquarters 
and  posted  the  translation  of  that  quill  of  a  cipher  mes- 
sage, and  a  dense  crowd  gathered  to  see  when  the  relief 
would  march  in.  March  in !  The  message  from  an 
English  Consul  ran: 

"Your  letter  of  the  4th  July  received.  Twenty-four 
thousand  troops  landed  and  19,000  at  Tientsin.  General 
Gaselee  expected  at  Taku  to-morrow;  Russians  at  Pei- 
tsang.  Tientsin  city  under  foreign  government.  Boxer 
power  exploded  here.  Plenty  of  troops  on  the  way  if 
you  can  keep  yourselves  in  food.  Almost  all  the  ladies 
have  left  Tientsin." 

I  suppose  it  was  cruel  to  laugh,  but  laugh  I  did  with  a 
few  others.    Never  has  a  man  been  so  abused  as  was  that 


THE  FIRST  REAL  NEWS  247 

luckless  English  Consul  who  penned  such  a  fatuous  mes- 
sage. The  spy  had  already  marched  our  troops  half 
way  and  more;  even  the  pessimistic  allowed  that  they 
must  have  started;  an  authentic  message  showed  clearly 
that  it  was  folly  and  imagination.  We  would  have  to 
have  weeks  more  of  it,  perhaps  even  a  whole  month. 
The  people  wept  and  stormed,  and  soon  lost  all  en- 
thusiasm for  the  poor  messenger  boy  who  had  been  so 
brave. 

Two  hours  afterwards  I  found  him  still  fanning  him- 
self and  cooling  himself.  He  was  quite  alone;  most 
people  had  rather  he  had  never  come.  Yet  the  message 
has  been  heeded.  The  significant  phrase  is  that  we  must 
keep  ourselves  in  food.  Ponies  are  running  short;  there 
is  only  sufficient  grain  for  three  weeks'  rations;  so  if 
there  is  another  month,  it  will  be  a  fair  chance  that  a 
great  many  die  for  lack  of  food.  Lists  are  therefore 
being  made  of  everything  eatable  there  is,  and  all  pri- 
vate supplies  are  to  be  commandeered  in  a  few  days. 
People  are,  of  course,  making  false  lists  and  hiding  away 
a  few  things.  If  there  is  another  month  of  it  there  will 
be  some  very  unpleasant  scenes — yes,  some  very  un- 
pleasant scenes. 


XX 

THE  THIRD  PHASE  CONTINUES 

30th  July,  1900. 

'•1     f»l     '• '       •         •         • 

From  the  north  that  dull  booming  of  guns  ever  con- 
tinues.    The  Pei-t'ang  is  still  closely  besieged,  and  no 

news  comes  as  to  how  long  Monseigneur  F ,  with 

his  few  sailors  and  his  many  converts,  can  hold  out,  or 
why  they  are  exempted  from  this  strange  armistice, 
which  protects  us  temporarily.  Nothing  can  be  learned 
about  them. 

And  yet  our  own  armistice,  in  spite  of  Tsung-li  Yamen 
despatches  and  the  mutual  diplomatic  assurances,  can- 
not continue  for  ever.  Barricade  building  and  mining 
prove  that.  To-day  the  last  openings  have  been  closed 
in  on  us  for  some  curious  reason,  and  the  stretch  of  street 
which  runs  along  under  the  pink  Palace  walls  and  across 
the  Northern  canal  bridge  has  been  securely  fortified 
with  a  very  powerful  barricade.  Outside  the  Water- 
Gate  the  Chinese  sharpshooters  have  dug  also  a 
trench.  .    .   . 

This  last  barricade  was  not  built  without  some  attempt 
on  our  part  to  stop  such  a  menacing  step,  for  we  tried 
with  all  our  might,  by  directing  a  heavy  rifle-fire,  and 
at  last  dragging  the  Italian  gun  and  a  machine-gun  into 
position,  to  make  the  barricade-builders'  task  impossi- 
ble. But  it  was  all  in  vain,  and  now  we  are  neatly  en- 
cased in  a  vast  circle  of  bricks  and  timber;  we  are  abso- 


THE  THIRD    PHASE  CONTINUES  249 

lutely  enclosed  and  shut  in,  and  we  can  never  break 
through. 

Of  course  this  has  been  a  violation  of  the  armistice,  for 
it  was  mutually  agreed  that  neither  side  should  continue 
offensive  fortification  work,  or  push  closer,  and  that 
violation  would  entail  a  reopening  of  rifle  and  gun  fire. 
We  reopened  our  fire  for  a  short  interval,  but  little  good 
that  did  us.  We  lost  two  men  in  the  operation,  for  an 
Italian  gunner  was  shot  through  the  hand  and  made  use- 
less for  weeks,  and  a  volunteer  was  pinked  in  both 
shoulders,  and  may  have  to  lose  one  arm.  After  that 
we  stopped  firing,  for  those  bleeding  men  showed  us 
how  soon  our  defence  would  have  melted  away  had  we 
not  even  this  questionable  armistice. 

Very  soon  there  was  a  partial  explanation  of  why  this 
immense  barricade  had  been  built.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon Chinese  troops  began  to  stream  past  at  a  trot  under 
cover  of  the  structure.  First  there  were  only  infantry- 
men, whose  rifles  and  banners  could  just  be  seen  from 
some  of  our  lookout  posts  on  the  highest  roofs.  But 
presently  came  artillery  and  cavalry.  Everybody  could 
see  those,  although  the  men  bent  low.  Unendingly  they 
streamed  past,  until  the  alarm  became  general.  Even 
in  Peking,  quite  close  to  us,  there  were  thousands  of 
soldiery.  When  the  others  were  driven  in  off  the  Tient- 
sin road  it  would  be  our  doom. 

From  the  top  of  the  Tartar  Wall  came  the  same 
reports.  Our  outposts  saw  nothing  but  moving  troops 
picking  their  way  through  the  ruins  of  the  Ch'ien  Men 
great  street — troops  moving  both  in  and  out,  and  accom- 
panied by  long  tails  of  carts  bearing  their  impedimenta. 
Yet  it  was  impossible  to  trace  the  movements  of  the 
corps  streaming  past  under  cover  of  the  newly  built  bar- 


250         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

ricade.  The  flitting  glimpses  we  got  of  them  as  they 
swarmed  past  were  not  sufficient  to  allow  any  identifi- 
cation. Perhaps  they  were  passing  out  of  the  city;  per- 
haps they  were  being  massed  in  the  Palace;  per- 
haps. .  .  .  Anything  was  possible,  and,  as  one  thought, 
imperceptibly  the  atmosphere  seemed  to  become  more 
stifled,  as  if  a  storm  was  about  to  break  on  us,  and  we 
knew  our  feebleness.  Yet  we  are  strong  as  we  can  ever 
be.  The  fortification  work  has  gone  on  without  a  break. 
It  has  become  unending.  .  .  . 


XXI 

MORE  DIPLOMACY 

31st  July,   190a 


More  despatches  have  been  sent  by  our  diplomats 
to  the  Tsung-li  Yamen,  complaining  about  all  the  omi- 
nous signs  we  see  around  us,  and  asking  for  explanations. 
Explanations — they  are  sd  easy  to  give!  Every  ques- 
tion has  been  promptly  answered,  even  though  the 
Yamen  itself  is  probably  only  just  managing  to  keep  its 
head  above  the  muddy  waters  of  revolution  which  surge 
around.  Listen  to  the  replies.  The  sound  of  heavy 
guns  we  hear  in  the  north  of  the  city  are  due  to  the  gov- 
ernment's orders  to  exterminate  the  Boxers  and  rebels, 
who  have  been  attacking  the  Pei-t'ang  Cathedral  and 
harassing  the  converts.  The  great  barricade  across  the 
Northern  canal  bridge  was  built  solely  to  protect  the 
Chinese  soldiery  from  the  accuracy  of  our  fire,  which  is 
greatly  feared.  As  for  the  mining,  our  ears  must  have 
played  us  false.     None  is  going  on. 

Such  was  the  gist  of  the  answers  which  have  been 
promptly  sent  in.  These  answers  and  this  cor- 
respondence give  our  diplomats  satisfaction,  I  suppose, 
but  most  people  think  that  they  are  making  themselves 
more  undignified  than  they  have  been  ever  since  this 
storm  broke  on  us.  The  Yamen  can  in  any  case  do 
nothing;  it  is  merely  a  consultative  or  deliberative  body 
of  no  importance.    Probably  exactly  the  same  type  of 


252         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

despatches  are  being  sent  to  the  commanders  of  the  re- 
lieving columns  at  Tientsin. 

There  being  so  little  for  the  rank  and  file  to  do  or  talk 
about  at  the  present  moment,  there  is  endless  gossip  and 
scandal  going  on.  The  subject  of  eggs  is  one  of  the 
most  burning  ones !  Great  numbers  of  eggs  are  being 
obtained  by  the  payment  of  heavy  sums  to  some  of  the 
more  friendly  soldiery  around  us,  who  steal  in  with  bas- 
kets and  sacks,  and  receive  in  return  rolls  of  dollars, 
and  these  eggs  are  being  distributed  by  a  committee. 
Some  people  are  getting  more  than  others.  Everybody 
professes  tremendous  rage  because  a  certain  lady 
with  blue-black  hair  is  supposed  to  have  used  a 
whole  dozen  in  the  washing  of  her  hair!  She  is  one 
of  those  who  have  not  been  seen  or  heard  of  since  the 
rifles  began  to  speak.  There  are  lots  of  that  sort,  all 
well  nourished  and  timorous,  while  dozens  of  poor  mis- 
sionary women  are  suffering  great  hardships.  Several 
people  who  had  relations  in  Paris  thirty  years  ago  tell 
me  it  was  the  same  thing  then,  and  that  it  will  always 
be  the  same  thing.  This  story  of  the  eggs,  however, 
has  had  one  immediate  result.  People  are  hiding  away 
more  provisions  and  marking  them  off  on  their  lists  as 
eaten.  What  is  the  use  of  depriving  one's  self  for  the 
common  good  later  on  under  such  circumstances? 
What,  indeed! 

There  is  another  sign  which  is  not  pleasing  any  one. 
An  official  diary  is  being  now  written  up  under  orders  of 
the  headquarters.  It  will  be  full  of  our  Peking  diplo- 
matic half-truths.  But,  worst  of  all,  our  only  correspon- 
dent, M ,  who  was  shot  the  other  day  and  is  get- 
ting convalescent,  has  been  taken  under  the  wing  of 
our  commander-in-chief,  and  his  lips  will  be  sealed  by 


MORE  DIPLOMACY  255 

the  time  we  get  out — if  ever  we  get  out.  With  an 
official  history  and  a  discreet  independent  version,  no 
one  will  ever  understand  what  bungling  there  has  been, 
and  what  culpability.  It  is  our  chicken-hearted  chiefs, 
and  they  alone,  who  should  be  discredited.  With  a  few 
exceptions,  they  are  more  afraid  than  the  women,  and 
never  venture  beyond  the  British  Legation.  Everything 
is  left  to  the  younger  men,  whose  economic  value  is 
smaller!  I  hope  I  may  live  to  see  the  official 
accounts.  .   .   . 


XXII 

THE  WORLD  BEYOND  OUR  BRICKS 

2d  August,  1900. 


A  new  month  has  dawned,  and  with  it  have  come  shoals 
of  letters  bringing  us  exact  tidings  from  the  outer  world. 
Yesterday  one  messenger  slipped  in  bearing  three  letters. 
To-day  another  has  arrived  with  six  missives — making 
nine  letters  in  all  for  those  who  have  had  nothing  at 
all  except  a  couple  of  cipher  messages  for  two  entire 
months.  Those  nine  letters  meant  as  much  to  us  as  a 
winter's  mail  by  the  overland  route  in  the  old  days.  .   .   . 

For  as  each  one  confirms  and  adds  to  the  news  of  the 
others,  we  can  now  form  a  complete  and  well-connected 
story  of  almost  everything  that  has  taken  place.     We 

even   begin    to   understand   why   S and   his   two 

thousand  sailors  never  reached  us.    There  have  been  so 
many  things  doing. 

But  all  minor  details  are  forgotten  in  the  fact  that  there 
is  absolute  and  definite  news  of  the  relief  columns — 
news  which  is  repeated  and  confirmed  nine  times  over 
and  cannot  be  false  this  time.  The  columns  were  form- 
ing for  a  general  advance  as  the  letters  were  sent  off. 
The  advance  guard  was  leaving  immediately,  the  main 
body  following  two  days  later;  and  the  whole  of  the 
international  forces  would  arrive  before  the  middle  of 
the  month  of  August.  That  is  what  the  letters  said. 
Also,  the  American  Minister's  cipher  message  had  got 


THE  WORLD  BEYOND  OUR  BRICKS  255 

through,  and  was  now  known  to  the  entire  world. 
Everybody's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Peking.  There  was 
nothing  else  spoken  of.  That  made  us  stronger  than* 
anything  else.  Poor  human  nature — we  are  so  ego- 
tistical ! 

But  there  were  other  items  of  news.  For  the  first 
time  we  learned  that  Tientsin  has  had  a  siege  and  bom- 
bardment of  its  own;  that  all  Manchuria  is  in  flames; 
that  the  Yangtse  Valley  has  been  trembling  on  the  brink 
of  rebellion ;  that  Tientsin  city  has  at  last  been  captured 
by  European  troops  and  a  provisional  government  firmly 
established;  and  that  many  of  the  high  Chinese  officials 
have  committed  suicide  in  many  parts  of  China.  It  is 
curious  what  a  shock  all  this  news  gave,  and  how  many 
people  behaved  almost  as  if  their  minds  had  become 
unhinged.  But  then  we  have  had  two  months  of  it, 
and  in  two  months  you  can  travel  far.  In  the  hospital 
it  was  noticed,  too,  that  all  the  wounded  became  more 
sick.  ...  It  has  been  decided  that  any  further  news 
must  be  only  gradually  divulged,  and  that  despatches 
which  give  absolute  details  can  no  longer  be  posted  on 
the  Bell-tower.  .    .    . 

A  network  of  ruined  houses  around  the  old  Mongol 
market  have  just  been  seized  and  occupied  by  a  volunteer 
force.  This  is  the  last  weak  spot  there  is — a  half-closed 
gap,  which  could  be  rushed  by  bodies  of  men  coming  in 
from  the  Ch'ien  Men  Gate  and  ordered  to  attack  us. 
This  new  angle  of  native  houses  are  being  sandbagged 
and  loopholed.  Both  sides,  defenders  and  attacking 
forces,  are  now  as  ready  as  possible.  What  is  going  to 
happen?  I  am  mightily  tired  of  speculating  and  of 
writing. 


XXIII 

TRIFLES 

4th  August,  1900. 


There  is  now,  and  has  been  for  the  best  part  of  the 
last  forty-eight  hours,  outpost  shooting  on  all  sides, 
which  remains  quite  unexplained.  Listen  how  it 
happens. 

You  are  sitting  at  a  loophole,  half  asleep,  perhaps, 
during  the  daytime,  when  crack !  a  bullet  sends  a  shower 
of  brick  chips  and  a  powder-puff  of  dust  over  your  head. 
You  swear,  maybe,  and  quietly  continue  dozing.  Then 
come  two  or  three  rifle  reports  and  more  dust.  This 
time  the  thing  seems  more  serious,  it  may  mean  some- 
thing; so  you  reach  for  your  glasses  and  carefully  sur- 
vey the  scene  beyond  through  your  loophole.  To  re- 
main absolutely  hidden  is  the  order  of  the  day.  So  there 
is  nothing  much  to  be  seen.  Far  away,  and  very  near, 
lie  the  enemy's  barricades,  some  running  almost  up  to 
your  own,  but  quite  peaceful  and  silent,  others  standing 
up  frowningly  hundreds  of  yards  off,  monuments  erected 
weeks  ago.  These  latter  are  so  distant  that  they  are 
unknown  quantities.  Then  just  as  you  are  about  to  give 
it  up  as  a  bad  job,  you  see  the  top  of  a  rifle  barrel 
glistening  in  the  sun.  You  .  .  .  bang !  perilously  near 
your  glasses  another  bullet  has  struck.  So  you  pull 
up  your  rifle  by  the  strap,  open  out  your  loophole  a  little 
by  removing  some  of  the  bricks,  and  carefully  and  slowly 
you  send  the  answering  message  at  the  enemy's  head. 


TRIFLES  257 

If  you  have  great  luck  a  faint  groan  or  a  distant  shout 
of  pain  may  reward  your  efforts;  but  you  can  never  be 
quite  sure  whether  you  have  got  home  on  your  rival  or 
not.  Loophole  shooting  is  very  tricky,  and  the  very  best 
shots  fire  by  the  hour  in  vain.  I  have  seen  that 
often.  .    .    . 

Yesterday  I  directly  disobeyed  orders  by  opening  the 
ball  myself.  I  had  been  posted  in  the  early  morning 
very  close  to  one  of  the  enemy's  banners — perhaps  not 
more  than  forty  feet  away — and  this  gaudy  flag,  de- 
fiantly flapping  so  near  the  end  of  my  nose,  must  have 
incensed  me;  for  almost  before  I  had  realised  what  I 
was  doing  I  was  very  slowly  and  very  carefully  aiming 
at  the  bamboo  staff  so  as  to  split  it  in  two  and  bring 
down  the  banner  with  a  run.  I  fired  three  shots  in  ten 
minutes  and  missed  in  an  exasperating  fashion.  It  is 
the  devil's  own  job  to  do  really  accurate  work  with  an 
untested  government  rifle.  But  my  fourth  shot  was  more 
successful ;  it  snapped  the  staff  neatly  enough,  and  the 
banner  floated  to  the  ground  just  outside  the  barricade. 

This  Chinese  outpost  must  have  been  but  feebly 
manned,  as,  indeed,  all  the  outposts  have  been  since  the 
armistice,  for  it  was  fully  ten  minutes  before  anything 
occurred.  Then  an  arm  came  suddenly  over  and  pecked 
vainly  at  the  banner.  I  snapped  rapidly,  missed,  and 
the  arm  flicked  back.  Another  five  minutes  passed,  and 
then  a  piece  of  curved  bamboo  moved  over  the  barri- 
cade and  hunted  about.  It  was  no  use,  however,  the 
arm  had  to  come,  too.  I  waited  until  the  brown  hand 
clasping  the  bamboo  was  low  and  then  pumped  a  quick 
shot  at  it.  A  yell  of  pain  answered  me ;  the  bamboo  was 
dropped,  the  arm  disappeared.     I  had  drawn  blood. 


258         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

Nothing  now  occurred  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I 
heard  not  a  sound.  Then  suddenly  half  a  dozen  arms 
clasping  bamboos  appeared  at  different  points,  and  as 
soon  as  I  had  fired  six  heads  swooped  out  and  directed 
this  bamboo  fishing.  In  a  trice  they  had  harpooned  the 
flag,  and  before  I  could  fire  again  it  was  back  in  their 
camp.  I  had  been  beaten !  Then,  as  a  revenge,  I  was 
steadily  pelted  with  lead  for  more  than  half  an  hour 
and  had  to  lie  very  low.  They  searched  for  me  with 
their  missiles  with  devilish  ingenuity.  This  firing  be- 
came so  persistent  that  one  of  our  patrols  at  last  appeared 
and  crept  forward  to  me  from  the  line  of  main  works 
behind.  Only  by  ingenious  lying  did  I  escape  from 
being  reported.  .    .    . 

Probably  incidents  like  this  account  for  the  outpost 
duels  which  are  hourly  proceeding,  in  spite  of  all  the 
Tsung-li  Yamen  despatches  and  the  unending  mutual 
assurances.  Many  of  our  men  shoot  immediately  they 
see  a  Chinese  rifle  or  a  Chinese  head  in  the  hopes  of 
adding  another  scalp  to  their  tale.  In  any  case,  this 
does  no  harm.  It  seems  to  me  that  only  the  resolution 
of  the  outposts,  acting  independently,  and  sometimes 
even  in  defiance  to  orders  from  headquarters,  has  kept 
the  enemy  so  long  at  bay.    The  rifle  distrusts  diplomacy. 

This  diplomatic  correspondence  with  the  Yamen  is 
rapidly  accumulating.  Many  documents  are  now  com- 
ing through  from  European  Foreign  Offices  in  the  form 
of  cipher  telegrams,  that  are  copied  out  by  the  native 
telegraphists  in  the  usual  way.  No  one  is  being  told 
what  is  in  these  documents;  we  can  only  guess.  The 
Yamen  covers  each  message  with  a  formal  despatch  in 
Chinese,  generally  begging  the  Ministers  to  commit 
themselves  to  the  care  of  the  government.     They  now 


TRIFLES  259 

even  propose  that  every  one  should  be  escorted  to  Tient- 
sin— at  once.  And  yet  we  have  learned  from  copies  of 
the  Peking  Gazette  that  two  members  of  the  Yamen  were 
executed  exactly  seven  days  ago  for  recommending  a 
mild  policy  and  making  an  immediate  end  of  the  Boxer 
regime.  It  is  thus  impossible  to  see  how  it  will  end. 
Our  fate  must  ultimately  be  decided  by  a  number  of 
factors,  concerning  which  we  know  nothing. 

This  breathing  space  is  giving  time,  however,  which  is 
not  being  entirely  wasted  on  our  part.  At  several  points 
we  have  managed  to  enter  into  secret  relations  with  some 
of  the  Chinese  commands,  and  to  induce  traitors  to 
begin  a  secret  traffic  in  ammunition  and  food  sup- 
plies. .    .    . 

It  is  curious  how  it  is  done.  By  tunnelling  through 
walls  and  houses  in  neglected  corners,  protected  ways 
have  been  made  into  some  of  the  nests  of  half-ruined 
native  houses.  And  by  spending  many  bags  of  dollars, 
friendship  has  first  been  bought  and  then  supplies. 

The  Japanese  have  been  the  most  successful.  Instead 
of  killing  the  soldier-spy,  who  had  been  selling  them 
false  news,  they  pardoned  him  and  enlisted  him  in  this 
new  cause.  He  has  been  very  useful,  and  arranged 
matters  with  the  enemy.   .    .    . 

The  other  night  I  crept  out  through  the  secret  way  to 
the  Japanese  supply  house  to  see  how  it  was  done. 
There  were  only  two  little  Japanese  in  there  squatting  on 
the  ground,  with  several  revolvers  lying  ready.  A 
shaded  candle  just  allowed  you  to  distinguish  the  torn 
roof,  the  wrecked  wooden  furniture.  Nobody  spoke  a 
word,  and  we  all  listened  intently. 

A  full  hour  must  have  passed  before  a  very  faint  noise 
was  heard,  and  then  I  caught  a  discreet  scratching.     It 


260         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

was  the  signal.  One  of  the  little  men  got  up  and  crawled 
forward  to  the  door  like  a  dog  on  his  hands  and  knees. 
Then  I  heard  a  revolver  click — a  short  pause,  and  the 
noise  of  a  door  being  opened.  Then  there  was  a  tap — 
tap — tap,  like  the  Morse  code  being  quietly  played,  and 
the  revolver  clicked  down  again.  It  was  the  right  man. 
He,  too,  crawled  in  like  a  dog;  got  up  painfully,  as  if 
he  were  very  stiff,  and  silently  began  unloading.  Then 
I  understood  why  he  was  so  stiff;  he  was  loaded  from 
top  to  bottom  with  cartridges. 

It  took  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  everything  to  be  taken 
out  and  stacked  on  the  floor.  He  had  carried  in  close 
on  six  hundred  rounds  of  Mauser  ammunition,  and  for 
every  hundred  he  received  the  same  weight  in  silver. 
This  man  was  a  military  cook,  who  crept  round  and 
robbed  his  comrades  as  they  lay  asleep,  not  a  hundred 
yards  from  here.  Of  course,  he  will  be  discovered  one 
day  and  torn  to  pieces,  but  I  have  just  learned  that  by 
marvellous  ingenuity  and  with  the  aid  of  a  few  of  his 
fellows  thousands  of  eggs  have  been  brought  in  by  him. 
It  is  a  curious  business,  and  adds  yet  another  strange 
element  to  this  strangest  of  lives. 


XXIV 
DIPLOMATIC    CONFIDENCES 

6th  August,  1900. 


Firing  has  been  more  persistent  and  more  general  dur- 
ing the  last  two  days,  although  the  armistice  ostensibly 
still  continues  in  the  same  way  as  before.  A  number  of 
our  men  have  been  wounded,  and  two  or  three  even 
killed  during  the  past  week.  It  is  an  extraordinary  state 
of  affairs,  but  better  than  a  general  attack  all  along  the 
line.  We  have  no  right  to  complain.  The  day  before 
yesterday  several  Russians  were  badly  wounded;  yester- 
day a  Frenchman  was  killed  outright  and  a  couple  of 
other  men  wounded;  to-day  three  more  have  been  hit. 
In  spite  of  the  discharges  from  the  hospitals,  the  num- 
bers hors  de  combat  remain  the  same. 

To-day,  too,  trumpets  are  again  blaring  fiercely,  and 
more  and  more  troops  can  be  seen  moving  if  one  looks 
down  from  the  Tartar  Wall.  Up  on  the  wall  itself, 
however,  all  is  dead  quiet.  It  has  been  like  that  for 
weeks.     No  men  have  been  lost  there. 

Neither  is  there  any  news  of  the  thick  relief  columns 
which  should  be  advancing  from  Tientsin.  In  spite  of 
the  shoals  of  letters  I  have  duly  recorded,  assuring  us  of 
their  immediate  departure,  the  majority  of  us  have  again 
become  rather  incredulous  about  our  approaching  relief. 
It  has  become  such  a  regular  thing,  this  siege  life,  and 
all  other  kinds  of  life  are  somehow  so  far  away  and  so 


262         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

impossible  after  what  we  have  gone  through,  that  we 
look  upon  the  outer  world  as  something  mythical.  .  .  . 
Some  men  have  their  minds  a  little  unhinged;  two  are 
absolutely  mad.  One,  a  poor  devil  of  a  Norwegian 
missionary,  who  has  been  living  in  misery  for  years  in  a 
vain  effort  to  make  converts,  became  so  dangerous  long 
ago  that  he  had  to  be  locked  up,  and  even  bound.  But 
one  night  he  managed  to  escape,  climb  our  defences  and 
deliver  himself  up  to  the  Chinese  soldiery.  They  led 
him  also  to  the  Manchu  Generalissimo,  Jung  Lu,  half 
suspecting  that  he  was  crazy.  Jung  Lu  questioned  him 
closely  as  to  our  condition,  and  the  Norwegian  divulged 
everything  he  knew.  He  said  the  Chinese  fire  had  been 
too  high  to  do  us  very  much  harm;  that  they  should  drive 
low  at  us,  and  remember  the  flat  trajectory  of  modern 
weapons.  After  keeping  him  for  some  hours  and  learn- 
ing all  he  could,  Jung  Lu  sent  him  back.  The  poor 
devil,  when  he  lurched  in  again,  vacantly  told  the 
people  in  the  British  Legation  what  he  had  said, 
and  a  number  demanded  that  he  be  shot  for  treason.  If 
they  once  began  doing  that  an  end  would  never  be 
reached.  .   .   . 

Some  go  mad,  too,  during  the  fighting.  It  is  always 
those  who  have  too  much  imagination.  Thus,  during  a 
lull  in  the  attacks  against  the  French  lines,  a  Russian 
volunteer,  with  rifle  and  bandolier  across  his  back  and  a 
bottle  of  spirits  in  his  hand,  charged  furiously  at  the 
Chinese  barriers  with  insane  cries.  No  effort  could  be 
made  to  save  him,  because  hundreds  of  Chinese  riflemen 
were  merely  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  pick  off  our 
men.  So  the  doomed  Russian  reached  the  first  Chinese 
barricade  unmolested,  put  a  leg  over,  and  then  fell  back 
with  a  terrible  cry  as  a  dozen  rifles  were  emptied  into 


DIPLOMATIC  CONFIDENCES  263 

his  body.  By  a  miracle  he  picked  himself  up  even  in 
his  dying  condition,  and  made  another  frantic  effort  to 
climb  the  obstacle.  But  more  rifles  were  then  dis- 
charged, and  finally  the  wretched  man  fell  back  quite 
lifeless.  Then  over  his  body  a  fierce  duel  took  place. 
Chinese  commanders  having  placed  a  price  on  European 
heads,  these  riflemen  were  determined  not  to  lose  their 
reward.  Man  after  man  attempted  to  drag  in  that  dead 
body;  but  each  time  our  men  were  too  quick  for  them, 
and  a  Chinese  brave  rolled  over.  In  the  end  they 
hooked  the  corpse  in  with  long  poles  and  it  was  seen  no 
more. 

A  yet  more  blood-curdling  case  is  that  of  a  British 
marine,  who  has  been  hopelessly  mad  for  weeks  now. 
He  shot  and  bayonetted  a  man  in  the  early  part  of  the 
siege,  and  the  details  must  have  horrified  him.  They  say 
he  first  drove  his  bayonet  in  right  up  to  the  hilt  through 
a  soldier's  chest;  and  then,  without  withdrawing, 
emptied  the  whole  of  the  contents  of  his  magazine  into 
his  victim,  muttering  all  the  time.  Now  he  lies  repeat- 
ing hour  after  hour,  "How  it  splashes  !  how  it  splashes !" 
and  at  night  he  shrieks  and  cries.  ...  In  that  miserable 
Chancery  hospital,  swept  by  rifle-fire  and  full  of  such 
cries  and  groans,  the  nights  have  become  dreaded,  until 
it  is  a  wonder  the  wounded  still  live.  .    .    . 

Still,  with  all  this,  the  Yamen  messengers  continue  to 
come  and  go  with  clockwork  regularity.  Yesterday  the 
Chinese  Government  excelled  itself,  and  made  some 
who  have  still  a  sense  of  humour  left  laugh  cynically. 
In  an  original  official  despatch — that  is,  not  a  mere  cov- 
ering despatch — it  politely  informed  the  Italian  Charge 
d' Affaires  that  King  Humbert  had  been  assassinated  by 
a  lunatic,  and  it  begged  to  convey  the  news  with  its  most 


264  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

profound  condolences !  Perhaps,  however,  there  was  a 
wish  to  point  a  moral — a  subtle  moral  such  as  Chinese 
scholars  love.  Yes,  on  second  thoughts  that  was  rather 
a  clever  despatch;  in  diplomacy  the  Chinese  have  noth- 
ing to  learn.  .  .  . 


XXV 

THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS 

8th  August,  1900. 


Some  strange  deity  is  helping  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment. There  is  always  something  appropriate  to  write 
about.  Yesterday  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh  died.  We 
were  officially  informed  to  that  effect,  after  the  King 
Humbert  manner,  and  the  condolences  were  great.  Yes- 
terday, also,  during  the  evening,  shelling  suddenly  com- 
menced and  the  cannon-mouths  that  have  been  leering 
at  us  from  a  distance  in  dull  curiosity  at  their  inactivity 
have  barked  themselves  hoarsely  to  life  again.  Thus, 
while  diplomacy  still  continues,  shrapnel  and  segment  are 
plunging  about.  At  times  it  really  seems  as  if  the  Chi- 
nese Government  had  succeeded  in  dividing  us  up  into 
two  distinct  categories.  It  has  tried  to  save  the  diplo- 
mats from  shells  and  bullets;  since  they  remain  with 
the  others  they  must  share  their  fate. 

We  listened  to  this  cannonade  with  tightly  pressed  lips 
last  night  for  an  hour  and  more,  and,  lying  low,  watched 
the  splinters  fly;  and  then,  just  as  the  clamour  appeared 
to  be  growing,  it  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  com- 
menced, and  the  uproarious  trumpets,  that  we  know  so 
well,  once  more  called  off  the  attacking  forces  with  their 
stentorian  voices.  It  seems  as  if  an  internecine  warfare 
had  begun  outside  our  lines — that  the  loosely  jointed 
Chinese    Government    is    also    struggling    with    itself. 


266         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

Thus  legs  and  arms  thrash  around  for  a  while  and  cause 
chaos;  then  the  brain  reasserts  its  sway,  and  the  limbs 
become  quieted  and  reposeful  for  a  time.  Never  will 
there  be  such  a  siege  again.  I  am  beginning  to  under- 
stand something  of  all  its  vast  complexity,  to  know  that 
everybody  is  at  once  guilty  and  innocent,  and  that  a 
strange  deity  decrees  that  it  must  be  so.  .   .   . 

For  while  we  are  beginning  to  be  attacked  fitfully, 
other  strange  things  have  been  observed  from  the  Tartar 
Wall.  There  has  been  some  fighting  and  shooting  in  the 
burned  and  ruined  Ch'ien  Men  great  street  down  below, 
and  Chinese  cavalry  have  been  seen  chasing  and  cutting 
down  red-coated  men.  A  species  of  Communism  may  in 
the  end  rise  from  the  ashes  of  the  ruined  capital,  or  a 
new  dynasty  be  proclaimed,  or  nothing  may  happen  at 
all,  excepting  that  we  shall  die  of  starvation  in  a  few 
weeks.  .    .    . 

The  native  Christians  in  the  Su  wang-fu  are  already 
getting  ravenous  with  hunger,  and  are  robbing  us  of 
every  scrap  of  food  they  can  garner  up.  Their  pro- 
visioning has  almost  broken  down,  in  spite  of  every 
effort,  and  the  missionary  committees  and  sub-com- 
mittees charged  with  their  feeding  are  beginning  to  dis- 
criminate, they  say.  These  vaunted  committees  cannot 
but  be  a  failure  except  in  those  things  which  immediately 
concern  the  welfare  of  the  committees  themselves.  The 
feeble  authority  of  headquarters,  now  that  puny  diplo- 
macy has  been  so  busy,  has  become  more  feeble  than  it 
was  in  the  first  days,  and,  like  the  Chinese  Government, 
we,  too,  shall  soon  fall  to  pieces  by  an  ungumming 
process.  Native  children  are  now  dying  rapidly,  and 
two  weeks  more  will  see  a  veritable  famine.  The  trees 
are  even  now  all  stripped  of  their  leaves;  cats  and  dogs 


THE  PLOT  AGAIN  THICKENS  267 

arc  hunted  down  and  rudely  beaten  to  death  with 
stones,  so  that  their  carcases  may  be  devoured.  Many 
of  the  men  and  women  cling  to  life  with  a  desperation 
which  seems  wonderful,  for  some  are  getting  hardly 
any  food  at  all,  and  their  ribs  are  cracking  through 
their  skin.  There  is  something  wrong  somewhere, 
for  while  so  many  are  half  starving,  the  crowds 
of  able-bodied  converts  used  in  the  fortification  work 
are  fairly  well  fed.  Nobody  seems  to  wish  to  pay 
much  attention  to  the  question,  although  many  reports 
have  been  sent  in.  Perhaps,  from  one  point  of 
view,  it  is  without  significance  whether  these  useless 
people  die  or  not.  Hardly  any  of  the  many  non- 
combatant  Europeans  stir  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Brit- 
ish Legation,  even  with  this  lull.  All  sit  there  talking 
— talking  eternally  and  praying  for  relief,  calculating 
our  chances  of  holding  out  for  another  two  or  three 
weeks,  but  never  acting.  A  roll,  indeed,  has  been  made 
at  last,  with  every  able-bodied  man's  name  set  down,  and 
a  distribution  table  drawn  up.  But  beyond  that  no 
action  has  been  taken,  and  the  hundred  and  more  men 
who  might  be  added  to  our  active  forces  are  allowed  to 
do  nothing. 

This  might  be  all  right  were  there  not  certain  ominous 
signs  around  us,  which  show  that  a  change  must  soon 
come.  For  the  enemy  has  planted  new  banners  on  all 
sides  of  us,  bearing  the  names  of  new  Chinese  generals 
unknown  to  us.  Audaciously  driven  into  the  ground  but 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  from  our  outposts,  these  gaudy 
flags  of  black  and  yellow,  and  many  other  colours, 
flaunt  us  and  mock  us  with  the  protection  assured  by 
the  Tsung-li  Yamen.  Still,  those  despatches  continue 
to  come  in,  but  the  first  interpreter  of  the  French  Lega- 


268         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

tion,  who  sees  some  of  them  in  the  original,  says  that 
their  tone  is  becoming  more  surly  and  imperative. 

It  is  ominous,  too,  that  the  Chinese  commands,  which 
have  been  so  reinforced  and  are  now  of  great  strength, 
are  so  close  to  our  outer  line  that  they  heave  over  heavy 
stones  in  order  to  maim  and  hurt  our  outposts  without 
firing.  All  the  outer  barricades  and  trenches  are  being 
hurriedly  roofed  in  to  protect  us  from  this  new  danger. 
One  of  our  men,  struck  on  the  head  with  a  twenty-pound 
stone,  has  been  unconscious  ever  since,  and  a  great  many 
others  are  badly  hurt  in  other  ways.  The  Chinese  can 
be  very  ingenious  devils  if  they  wish,  and  the  score 
against  them  is  piling  up  more  and  more. 


XXVI 
MORE  MESSENGERS 

I oth  August,  1900. 


At  last  some  great  news !  Messengers  from  the  relief 
columns  have  actually  arrived,  and  the  columns  them- 
selves are  only  a  few  days'  march  from  Peking.  What 
excitement  there  has  been  among  the  non-combatant 
community;  what  handshaking;  what  embracing;  what 
fervent  delight!  This  unique  life  is  to  end;  we  are  to 
become  reasonably  clean  and  quite  ordinary  mortals 
again,  lost  among  the  world's  population  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred millions — undistinguished,  unknown — that  is,  if 
the  relief  gets  in.  .   .   . 

The  messengers  came  to  us  apparently  from  nowhere, 
walking  in  after  the  Chinese  manner,  which  is  quite  non- 
chalantly, and  with  the  sublime  calm  of  the  East.  One 
of  the  first  slid  in  and  out  of  the  enemy's  barricades  with 
immense  effrontery  at  dawn,  and  then  -climbed  the 
Japanese  defences,  and  produced  a  little  ball  of  tissue 
paper  from  his  left  ear.  Fateful  news  contained  so  long 
in  that  left  ear!  It  was  a  cipher  despatch  from  General 
Fukishima,  chief  of  the  staff  of  the  relieving  Japanese 
columns.  It  said  that  the  advance  guard  would  reach 
the  outskirts  of  Peking  on  the  13th  or  14th,  if  all  went 
well.  Heavens,  we  all  said,  as  we  calculated  aloud,  that 
meant  only  three  or  four  days  more.   .    .    . 

This  news  was  soon  duplicated,  for  hardly  had  the  first 
excitement  subsided  when  the  news  spread  that  a  second 


270         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

messenger  from  the  British  General  of  the  relieving 
forces  had  managed  to  force  his  way  through.  It  was 
a  confirmation,  was  his  message;  three  or  four  days 
more.  .  .  .  But  the  messenger,  when  he  spoke,  had 
other  things  to  say.  He  had  been  sent  out  by  us  a  week 
before  by  being  lowered  by  ropes  from  the  Tartar 
Wall.  Forty  miles  from  Peking  he  had  met  Black  cav- 
alry and  Russian  cavalry  miles  in  advance  of  the  other 
soldiery.  They  had  charged  at  him  and  captured  him, 
and  led  him  before  generals  and  officers.  .  .  .  The  roads 
leading  to  Peking  were  littered  with  wounded  and  dis- 
banded Chinese  soldiery;  there  had  been  much  fighting, 
but  the  natives  could  not  withstand  the  foreigner — that 
is  what  their  compatriot  said.  Everybody  was  terrified 
by  the  Black  soldiery  from  India ;  they  had  come  in  the 
same  way  forty  years  before.  .   .   . 

So  the  relieving  armies  are  truly  rolling  up  on  Peking. 
It  seems  incredible  and  unreal,  but  it  is  undoubtedly 
true,  and  it  must  be  accepted  as  true.    .    .    . 

As  if  goaded  by  the  terrors  conjured  up  by  these  aveng- 
ing armies,  which  are  now  so  close,  the  Tsung-li  Yamen, 
in  some  last  despatches,  has  informed  our  Plenipoten- 
tiaries that  it  is  decapitating  wholesale  the  soldiery  that 
have  been  firing  on  us — that  it  wishes  for  personal  inter- 
views with  all  our  Ministers  to  arrange  everything,  so 
that  there  may  be  no  more  misunderstandings  later  on. 
Vain  hope!  Numbers  of  documents  are  coming  in,  and 
every  Minister  wishes  to  write  something  in  return — 
to  show  that  with  the  return  of  normal  conditions  there 
will  be  a  return  of  importance.  Somehow  it  seems  to  me 
that  not  one  of  them  can  become  important  again  in  Pe- 
king. They  have  been  too  ridiculous — politically,  they 
are  already  all  dead. 


XXVII 

THE  ATTACKS  RESUMED 

1 2th  August,  1900. 


All  thoughts  of  relief  have  been  pushed  into  the  middle 
distance — and  even  beyond — by  the  urgent  business  we 
have  now  on  hand.  For  the  attacks  have  been  suddenly 
resumed,  and  have  been  continuous,  well  sustained,  and 
far  worse  than  anything  we  have  ever  experienced  be- 
fore, even  in  the  first  furious  days  of  the  siege.  What 
stupendous  quantities  of  ammunition  have  been  loosed 
off  on  us  during  the  past  forty-eight  hours — what  tons 
of  lead  and  nickel!  Some  of  our  barricades  have  been 
so  eaten  away  by  this  fire,  that  there  is  but  little  left,  and 
we  are  forced  to  lie  prone  on  the  ground  hour  after 
hour,  not  daring  to  move  and  not  daring  to  send  reliefs 
at  the  appointed  intervals.  So  intense  has  the  rifle-fire 
been  around  the  Su  Wang-fu  and  the  French  Legation 
lines,  that  high  above  the  deafening  roar  of  battle  a  dis- 
tinct and  ominous  snake-like  hissing  can  be  heard — a 
hiss,  hiss,  hiss,  that  never  ceases.  It  is  the  high-velocity 
nickel-nosed  bullet  tearing  through  the  air  at  lightning 
speed,  and  spitting  with  rage  at  its  ill  success  in  driving 
home  on  some  unfortunate  wretch.  They  hiss,  hiss,  hiss, 
hour  after  hour,  without  stopping;  and  as  undertone 
to  that  brutal  hiss  there  is  the  roll  of  the  rifles  themselves, 
crackling  at  us  by  the  thousand  like  dry  fagots.  At 
first  this  storm  of  sound  paralyses  you  a  little;  then  a 


272         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

lust  for  battle  gains  you,  and  you  steadily  drive  bullets 
through  the  Chinese  loopholes  in  the  hope  of  finding  a 
Chinese  face.  Whenever  they  bunch  and  press  forward 
we  wither  them  to  pieces.  .  .  .  But  men  are  falling  on 
our  side  more  rapidly  than  we  care  to  think — one  rolled 
over  on  top  of  me  two  hours  ago  drilled  through  and 
through — and  if  anything  should  happen  to  the  reliev- 
ing columns  and  delay  their  arrival  for  only  two  or  three 
days,  this  tornado  of  fire  will  have  swept  all  our  de- 
fenders into  the  hospitals.  The  Chinese  guns  are  also 
booming  again,  and  shrapnel  and  segment  are  tearing 
down  trees  and  outhouses,  bursting  through  walls,  splin- 
tering roofs,  and  wrecking  our  strongest  defences  more 
and  more.  Just  now  one  of  our  few  remaining  ponies 
was  struck,  and  it  was  a  pitiable  sight,  giving  a  bloody 
illustration  of  the  deadly  force  of  shell-fragments.  The 
piece  that  struck  this  poor  animal  was  not  very  big,  but 
still  it  simply  tore  into  his  flank,  and  seemed  to  burst  him 
in  two.  With  his  entrails  hanging  out  and  his  agonised 
eyes  mutely  protesting,  the  pony  staggered  and  fell. 
Then  we  despatched  him  with  our  rifles. 

Our  casualty  list  has  now  passed  the  two  hundred  mark, 
they  say.  In  a  few  days  more,  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  total 
force  of  active  combatants  will  have  been  either  killed 
or  wounded. 

During  the  lulls  which  occur  between  the  attacks,  when 
the  Chinese  soldiery  are  probably  coolly  refreshing  them- 
selves with  tea  and  pipes  and  hauling  away  those  who 
have  succumbed,  we  hear  from  the  north  of  the  city  the 
same  dull  booming  of  big  guns,  continuous,  relentless, 
and  never-tiring.  It  is  the  sound  of  the  Chinese  artillery- 
ranged  against  the  great  fortified  Roman  Catholic 
Cathedral.    When  we  have  a  few  moments  we  can  well 


THE  ATTACKS  RESUMED  273 

picture  to  ourselves  this  valiant  Bishop   F ,   with 

cross  in  hand,  like  some  old-time  warrior-priest,  pointing 
to  the  enemy,  and  urging  his  spear-armed  flocks  to  stand 
firm  along  the  outer  rim.  We  can  also  see,  in  the  smoke 
and  dust,  the  thin  fringe  of  sailors  who  must  be  form- 
ing the  mainstay  of  the  defence.  Perhaps,  sprinkled 
along  the  compound  walls,  with  harsh-speaking  rifles  in 
their  hands,  they  are  a  sort  of  human  incense,  exorcising 
by  their  mere  presence  the  devils  in  pagan  hearts.  .  .  . 
Scant  time  for  thoughts;  none  for  recording,  as  each 
hour  shows  more  clearly  what  we  may  expect.  Scarcely 
has  the  fire  been  stilled  in  one  quarter  than  it  breaks  out 
with  even  greater  violence  in  another,  and  we  are  hur- 
ried in  small  reinforcements  from  point  to  point.  And 
from  the  positions  on  the  Tartar  Wall,  which  are  now 
also  dusted  by  a  continually  growing  fire  that  would 
sweep  our  men  off  in  a  cloud  of  sand-bags  and  brick-chips, 
the  enemy's  attacks  can  be  best  understood.  The  grow- 
ing number  of  rifles  being  brought  to  bear  on  us ;  the  vio- 
lence and  increasing  audacity;  the  building  of  new  barri- 
cades that  press  closer  and  closer  to  our  own,  and  are 
now  so  near  that  they  almost  crush  in  our  chests — are 
all  clear  from  the  reports  sent  down.  The  relief  columns 
on  the  Tientsin  road  are  driving  in  unwieldy  Chinese 
forces  on  top  of  us,  and  this  native  soldiery  is  falling 
back  on  the  capital  to  be  remarshalled  after  a  fashion — 
placed  on  the  city  walls  or  flung  against  us  in  a  despair- 
ing attempt  to  kill  us  all,  and  remove  the  Thing  which 
is  making  the  relieving  columns  advance  so  quickly. 
Crazy  with  fear,  and  with  ghosts  of  the  chastisement  of 
i860  etched  on  every  column  of  dust  raised  by  their 
retreating  soldiery,  the  Chinese  Government  is  acting 
like  one  possessed. 


274         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

To-day  I  saw  it  all  beautifully,  with  the  aid  of  the 
best  glasses  we  have  got.  First  came  bodies  of  infantry 
trotting  hurriedly  in  their  sandals  and  glancing  about 
them.  In  the  dust  and  the  distance  they  seemed  to  have 
lost  all  formation — to  be  mere  broken  fragments.  But 
once  a  man  stopped,  looked  up  at  us,  a  mere  dot  in  the 
ruined  streets  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  yards  away, 
and  then  savagely  discharged  his  rifle  at  us.  He  knew 
we  were  on  the  Tartar  Wall,  and  so  sent  his  impotent 
curses  at  us  through  a  three-foot  steel  tube.  .  .  .  Behind 
such  men  were  long  country  carts  laden  with  wounded 
and  broken  men,  and  driven  by  savage-looking  drivers, 
powdered  with  our  cursed  dust  and  driving  standing  up 
with  voice  and  whip  alone.  The  teams  of  ponies  were 
all  mud-stained  and  tired,  and  moved  very  slowly  away; 
and  their  great  iron-hooped  wheels  clanked  discordantly 
over  the  stone-paved  ways.  Sometimes  a  body  of  cav- 
alry, with  gaudy  banners  in  the  van  and  the  men  flogging 
on  their  steeds  with  short  whips,  have  also  ridden  by 
escaping  from  the  rout.  Infantry  and  horsemen, 
wounded  in  carts  and  wounded  on  foot,  flow  back  into 
the  city  through  the  deserted  and  terror-stricken  streets, 
and  it  is  we  who  shall  suffer.  So  much  of  this  has  been 
understood  by  everybody,  that  an  order  has  been  pri- 
vately given  that  no  one  is  to  be  allowed  on  the  Tartar 
Wall,  excepting  the  regular  reliefs.  There  is  in  any 
case  no  time  for  most  of  us  to  creep  up  there  and  look  on 
the  city  below;  we  are  tied  to  the  barricades  and  trenches 
down  in  the  flat  among  the  ruins,  chained  to  our  posts  by 
a  never-ending  rifle-fire. 


XXVIII 

THE  THIRTEENTH 

13th  August,    1900. 


It  is  the  13th,  that  fateful  number,  and  there  are  some 
who  are  divided  between  hope  and  fear.  Is  it  good 
to  hope  on  a  13th,  or  is  it  mere  foolishness  to  think 
about  such  things  ?  Who  knows  ? — for  we  have  be- 
come unnatural  and  abnormal — subject  to  atavistic 
tendencies  in  thought  and  action.  .  .  .  Most  people 
are  keeping  their  thoughts  to  themselves,  but  actions 
cannot  be  hidden.  You  would  not  believe  some  of  the 
things.  .   .  . 

There  has  not  been  a  sign  or  a  word  from  the  relief 
column  for  many  hours.  The  fleeing  Chinese  soldiery 
we  witnessed  in  such  numbers  yesterday  entering  the  city 
have  stopped  rushing  in,  and  now  from  the  Tartar  Wall 
the  streets  below  in  the  outer  city  seem  quite  silent  and 
deserted.  Last  night,  too,  it  was  seen  that  the  line  of 
the  enemy's  rifles  packed  against  us  was  so  continuous, 
and  the  spacing  so  close,  that  one  continuous  flame  of 
fire  ripped  round  from  side  to  side  and  deluged  us  with 
metal.  So  heavy  was  this  firing,  so  crushing,  that  it  was 
paralysing.  Any  part  broken  into  would  have  been  irre- 
trievably lost.  The  bullets  and  shells  struck  our  walls 
and  defences  in  great  swarms,  sometimes  several  hun- 
dred projectiles  swishing  down  at  a  time.  There  must 
have  been  ten  or  twelve  thousand  infantry  firing  at  us 


276         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

and  fifteen  guns.  Where  I  lay,  with  a  post  of  sixteen 
men,  there  were  more  than  five  hundred  riflemen  facing 
us,  at  distances  varying  from  forty  feet  to  four  hundred 
yards.  Every  ruined  house  outside  the  fringe  of  our 
defence  has  now  been  converted  into  a  blockhouse  by 
the  persistent  enemy.  Every  barricade  we  have  built 
has  a  dozen  other  barricades  opposing  it  in  parallels,  in 
chessboards,  in  every  kind  of  formation ;  and  from  these 
barricades  the  fire  poured  in  since  the  ioth — that  is,  for 
sixty  long  hours — has  only  ceased  at  rare  intervals.  Our 
stretcher-parties  have  been  very  busy,  but  how  many  men 
we  have  lost  since  the  armistice  was  deliberately  broken 
no  one  knows.  Yesterday  a  French  captain,  a  gallant 
officer,  who  feared  nothing,  was  shot  dead  through  the 
head,  making  the  ninth  officer  killed  or  severely 
wounded  since  the  beginning.  Yesterday,  also,  the  new 
Mongol  market  defences  trembled  on  the  brink  hour 
after  hour,  and  with  them  the  fate  of  three  thousand 
heads.  New  Chinese  troops  armed  with  Mannlicher 
carbines,  the  handiest  weapons  for  barricade  fighting, 
had  been  pushed  up  behind  a  veil  of  light  entrenchments 
to  within  twenty  feet  of  the  Mongol  market  posts,  and 
their  fire  was  so  tremendous  that  it  drove  right  through 
our  bricks  and  sand-bags.  God  willed  that  just  as  the 
final  rush  was  coming  a  Chinese  barricade  gave  way; 
our  men  emptied  their  magazines  with  the  rapidity  of 
despair  into  the  swarms  of  Chinese  riflemen  disclosed; 
dozens  of  them  fell  killed  and  wounded,  and  the  rest 
were  driven  back  in  disorder.  Ten  seconds  more  would 
have  made  them  masters  of  our  positions.  The  closeness 
of  this  final  agony  was  such  that  squads  of  reserves, 
who  had  not  fired  a  shot  during  the  siege,  voluntarily 
went  forward  to  the  threatened  points  and  lay  there 


THE  THIRTEENTH  277 

the  whole  night.  At  last  it  has  been  driven  home  on 
all  that  our  fate  hangs  in  the  balance,  and  has  hung  in 
the  balance  for  weeks.  But  it  is  too  late  now.  If  a 
single  link  in  our  chain  is  broken  there  will  be  a  sauve 
qui  peut  which  no  heroism  can  stop. 


XXIX 

THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  THIRTEENTH 

14th  August,  1900. 


All  yesterday  the  fire  hardly  diminished  in  violence, 
and  more  and  more  of  our  men  were  hit.  .  .  .  The 
Chinese  commanders,  having  learned  of  the  loss  of  a 
Chinese  general  and  a  great  number  of  his  men  at  the 
Mongol  market,  have  been  having  their  revenge  by  giv- 
ing us  not  a  minute's  rest.  Up  to  six  o'clock  yesterday 
evening  I  had  been  continually  on  duty  for  forty-eight 
hours,  with  a  few  minutes'  sleep  during  the  lulls.  At  six 
in  the  evening  I  stretched  out.  At  half-past  eight  the 
pandemonium  had  risen  to  such  a  pitch  that  sleep  with- 
out opiates  was  impossible.  All  round  our  lines  roared 
and  barked  Mausers,  Mannlichers,  jingals,  and  Tower 
muskets,  every  gun  that  could  be  brought  to  bear  on  us 
firing  as  fast  and  as  fiercely  as  possible  in  a  last  wild 
effort.  The  sound  was  so  immense,  so  terrifying,  that 
many  could  hardly  breathe.  Against  the  barricades, 
through  half-blocked  loopholes,  and  on  to  the  very 
ground,  myriads  of  projectiles  beat  their  way,  hissing 
and  crashing,  ricochetting  and  slashing,  until  it  seemed 
impossible  any  living  thing  could  exist  in  such  a  storm. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  13th.  Not  a  word  had  been 
heard  of  the  relief  columns,  not  a  message,  not  a  courier 
had  come  in.  But  could  anything  have  dared  to  move 
to  us?     Even  the  Tsung-li  Yamen,  affrighted  anew  at 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  THIRTEENTH  279 

this  storm  of  fire  which  it  can  no  longer  control,  had 
not  dared  or  attempted  to  communicate  with  us.  We 
were  abandoned  to  our  own  resources.  At  best  we 
would  have  to  work  out  our  own  salvation.  Was  it  to 
be  the  last  night  of  this  insane  Boxerism,  or  merely  the 
beginning  of  a  still  more  terrible  series  of  attacks  with 
massed  assaults  pushed  right  home  on  us?  In  any  case, 
there  was  but  one  course — not  to  cede  one  inch  until  the 
last  man  had  been  hit.  All  the  isolated  post-command- 
ers— I  had  risen  to  be  one — decided  that  on  us  hinged 
the  fate  of  all.  The  very  idea  of  a  supreme  command 
watching  intelligently  and  overseeing  every  spot  of 
ground  was  impossible.  It  had  been  a  war  of  post-com- 
manders and  their  men  from  the  beginning;  it  would 
remain  so  to  the  bitter  end.  A  siege  teaches  you  that 
this  is  always  so. 

By  ten  o'clock  every  sleeping  man  had  been  pulled  up 
and  pushed  against  the  barricades.  Privately  all  the 
doubtful  men  were  told  that  if  they  moved  they  would 
be  shot  as  they  fell  back.  Everywhere  we  had  been  dis- 
covering that  in  the  pitch  dark  many  could  hardly  be 
held  in  place.  By  eleven  o'clock  the  fire  had  grown  to 
its  maximum  pitch.  It  was  impossible  that  it  could 
become  heavier,  for  the  enemy  was  manning  every  coign 
of  vantage  along  the  entire  line,  and  blazing  so  fiercely 
and  pushing  in  so  close  that  many  of  the  riflemen  must 
have  fallen  from  their  own  fire.  From  the  great  Tartar 
Wall  to  the  Palace  enclosure,  and  then  round  in  a  vast 
jagged  circle,  thousands  of  jets  of  fire  spurted  at  us;  and 
as  these  jets  pushed  closer  and  closer,  we  gave  orders  to 
reply  steadily  and  slowly.  Twice  black  bunches  of  men 
crept  quickly  in  front  of  me,  but  were  melted  to  pieces. 
By  twelve  o'clock  the  exhaustion  of  the  attackers  became 


280         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

suddenly  marked.  The  rifles,  heated  to  a  burning  pitch, 
were  no  longer  deemed  safe  even  by  Chinese  fatalists; 
and  any  men  who  had  ventured  out  into  the  open  had 
been  so  severely  handled  by  our  fire  that  they  had  no 
stomach  for  a  massed  charge.  Trumpet  calls  now  broke 
out  along  the  line  and  echoed  pealingly  far  and  near. 
The  riflemen  were  being  called  off. 

But  hardly  had  the  fire  dropped  for  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes  than  it  broke  out  again  with  renewed  vigour. 
Fresh  troops  lying  in  reserve  had  evidently  been  called 
up,  and  by  one  o'clock  the  tornado  was  fiercer  than  ever. 
Our  men  became  intoxicated  by  this  terrible  clamour, 
and  many  of  them,  infuriated  by  splinters  of  brick  and 
stone  that  broke  off  in  clouds  from  the  barricades  and 
stung  us  from  head  to  foot,  sometimes  even  inflicting 
cruel  wounds,  could  no  longer  be  held  in  check.  By  two 
o'clock  every  rifle  that  could  be  brought  in  line  was  reply- 
ing to  the  enemy's  fire.  If  this  continued,  in  a  couple  of 
hours  our  ammunition  would  be  exhausted,  and  we 
would  have  only  our  bayonets  to  rely  on.  I  passed  down 
my  line,  and  furiously  attempted  to  stop  this  firing,  but  it 
was  in  vain.  In  two  places  the  Chinese  had  pushed  so 
close,  that  hand-to-hand  fighting  had  taken  place.  This 
gives  a  lust  that  is  uncontrollable.  .  .  .  Everything  was 
being  taken  out  of  our  hands.  .   .    . 

Suddenly  above  the  clamour  of  rifle-fire  a  distant  boom 
to  the  far  east  broke  on  my  ears,  as  I  was  shouting  madly 
at  my  men.  I  held  my  breath  and  tried  to  think,  but 
before  I  could  decide,  boom!  came  an  answering  big 
gun  miles  away.  I  dug  my  teeth  into  my  lips  to  keep 
myself  calm,  but  icy  shivers  ran  down  my  back.  They 
came  faster  and  faster,  those  shivers.  .  .  .  You  will 
never  know  that  feeling.     Then,  boom!  before  I  had 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  THIRTEENTH  281 

calmed  myself  came  a  third  shock ;  and  then  ten  seconds 
afterwards,  three  booms,  one,  two,  three,  properly 
spaced.  I  understood,  although  the  sounds  only  shiv- 
ered in  the  air.  It  was  a  battery  of  six  guns  coming  into 
action  somewhere  very  far  off.  It  must  be  true !  I  rose 
to  my  feet  and  shook  myself.  Then,  in  answer  to  the 
heavy  guns,  came  such  an  immense  rolling  of  machine- 
gun  fire,  that  it  sounded  faintly,  but  distinctly,  above  the 
storm  around  us.  Great  forces  must  be  engaged  in  the 
open.  .   .    . 

I  had  been  so  ardently  listening  to  these  sounds  that  the 
enemy's  fire  had  imperceptibly  faded  away  in  front  of 
me  unnoticed,  until  it  had  become  almost  completely 
stilled.  Single  rifles  now  alone  cracked  off;  all  the  other 
men  must  be  listening  too — listening  and  wondering 
what  this  distant  rumble  meant.  Far  away  the  Chinese 
fire  still  continued  to  rage  as  fiercely — but  near  us,  by 
some  strange  chance,  these  distant  echoes  had  claimed 
attention. 

Again  the  booming  dully  shook  the  air.  Again  the 
machine-guns  beat  their  replying  rataplan.  Now  every 
rifle  near  by  suddenly  was  stilled,  and  a  Chinese 
stretcher-party  behind  me  murmured,  "Ta  ping  lai  tao 
liao" — "the  armies  arrived."  Somebody  took  this  up, 
and  then  we  began  shouting  it  across  in  Chinese  to  our 
enemy,  shouting  it  louder  and  louder  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy, 
and  heaving  heavy  stones  to  attract  their  attention.  We 
must  have  become  quite  crazy,  for  my  throat  suddenly 
gave  out,  and  I  could  only  speak  in  an  absurd  whisper. 
.   .   .  Oh,  what  a  night !  .   .   . 

Behind  the  barricades  facing  us  we  could  now  dis- 
tinctly hear  the  Chinese  soldiery  moving  uneasily  and 
muttering  excitedly  to  one  another.     They  had  under- 


282  INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

stood  that  it  must  be  the  last  night  of  Boxerism,  so  we 
threw  more  stones  and  shouted  more  taunts.  Then,  as 
if  accepting  the  challenge,  a  rifle  cracked  off,  a  second 
one  joined  it,  a  third,  a  fourth,  and  soon  the  long  lines 
blazed  flames  and  ear-splitting  sounds  again.  But  it  was 
the  last  night — this  did  not  matter — assuredly  it  was  the 
last  night,  and  from  our  posts  we  despatched  the  first 
news  to  headquarters  to  report  that  heavy  guns  had  been 
heard  to  the  east.  .    .    . 

Presently,  going  back  during  a  lull  to  see  ammunition 
brought  up,  I  found  that  inside  our  lines  the  women  and 
children  had  all  risen,  and  were  craning  their  necks  to 
catch  the  distant  sounds  which  had  been  so  long  in  com- 
ing. All  night  long  the  buildings  in  the  Su  wang-fu, 
which  are  packed  with  native  Christians,  had  been  filled 
with  the  sound  of  praying.  The  elders  appointed  to 
watch  over  this  vast  flock  had  been  warned  that  per- 
haps they  would  all  have  to  retreat  to  the  base  at  the 
last  minute,  and  that  all  must  remain  ready  during  the 
night  and  none  sleep.  As  soon  as  it  was  possible,  they 
were  told  that  the  relief  was  coming — that  the  end  was 
near.  .  .  .  What  a  sight  it  was  to  see  them  all  grouped 
together,  for  they  had  scrupulously  obeyed  orders!  In 
one  great  hall  five  hundred  Roman  Catholic  women  and 
children  in  sober  blue  gowns  were  sitting  patiently  and 
silently,  with  their  hands  folded — had  been  sitting  so  all 
the  long  night,  waiting  to  hear  any  news  or  orders  that 
might  be  brought  to  them.  Relief  or  retreat,  massacre 
or  deliverance — all  must  be  taken  with  the  stoicism  of 
the  East.  A  single  lamp  cast  its  dim  rays  over  these 
people;  and  a  hundred  feet  farther  on  were  other  halls 
and  buildings,  all  filled  to  overflowing  with  these  waiting 
miserables.    A  word  would  have  sent  them  surging  back 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  THIRTEENTH  283 

across  the  dry  Imperial  Canal — to  seek  safety  for  a  few 
hours  in  our  base.  Would  it  have  been  safety?  An  im- 
mense flood  of  feeling  overwhelmed  me.  .   .   . 

So  the  night  passed  uneasily  away,  but  no  more  distant 
sounds  were  heard,  and  in  the  end  we  began  to  wonder 
whether  our  ears  after  this  strain  of  weeks  had  not 
played  us  false. 


XXX 

HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF 

14th  August,   1900. 


Day  broke,  after  that  tremendous  night,  in  a  somewhat 
shambling  and  odd  fashion.  Exhausted  by  so  much 
vigilance  and  such  a  strain,  we  merely  posted  a  scattered 
line  of  picquets  and  threw  ourselves  on  the  ground.  It 
was  then  nearly  five  o'clock,  and  with  the  growing  light 
everything  seemed  unreal  and  untrue.  There  was  not  a 
sound  around  us;  there  was  going  to  be  no  relief,  and 
we  had  been  only  dreaming  horrid  dreams — that  was  the 
verdict  of  our  eyes  and  looks.  There  was  but  scant 
time,  however,  for  thinking,  even  if  one  could  have 
thought  with  any  sense  or  logic.  The  skies  were  blush- 
ing rosier  and  rosier;  a  solitary  crow,  that  had  lived 
through  all  that  storm,  came  from  somewhere  and  began 
calling  hoarsely  to  its  lost  mates.  We  were  dead  with 
sleep;  we  would  sleep,  or  else  .    .    . 

I  awoke  at  eleven  in  the  morning  sick  as  a  beaten  dog. 
The  sun  was  beating  hotly  down,  and  a  fierce  ray  had 
found  its  way  through  the  branches  of  my  protecting 
tree  and  had  been  burning  the  back  of  my  neck.  The 
Eastern  sun  is  a  brute;  when  it  strikes  you  long  in  a  ten- 
der spot,  it  can  make  you  sicker  than  anything  I  know  of. 
Arousing  ourselves,  we  got  up  all  of  us  gruntingly;  re- 
posted  the  sentries;  drank  some  black  tea;  made  a  faint 
pretence  at  washing ;  and  finding  all  dead  quiet  and  not 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  285 

a  trace  of  the  enemy,  sauntered  off  for  news.  Not  a 
word  anywhere,  not  a  sound,  not  a  message.  Everybody 
was  standing  about  in  uneasy  groups,  from  the  French 
and  German  lines  to  the  northern  outposts  of  the  British 
Legation.    Where  the  devil  were  our  relieving  columns? 

From  the  Tartar  Wall  we  scanned  the  horizon  with 
our  glasses.  Not  a  soul  afoot — nothing.  Was  all  the 
world  still  asleep,  tired  from  the  night's  debauch,  or  was 
it  merely  the  end  of  everything?  As  time  went  on,  and 
the  silence  around  us  was  uninterrupted,  we  became 
more  and  more  nervous.  In  place  of  the  storm  of  fire 
which  had  been  raging  for  so  many  hours  this  unbroken 
calm  was  terrible ;  for  far  worse  than  all  the  tortures  in 
the  world  is  the  one  of  a  solitary  silent  confinement. 

At  one  o'clock  I  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Getting 
leave  to  take  out  a  skirmishing  party,  I  called  for  volun- 
teers, and  got  six  men  and  two  Chinese  scouts.  At  half- 
past  one  we  slid  over  the  Eastern  Su  wang-fu  barricades 
— near  where  the  messengers  are  sent  from — and  scur- 
ried forward  into  the  contested  territory  beyond. 
Working  cautiously  in  a  long  line,  we  beat  the  ground 
thoroughly;  approached  the  enemy's  flanking  barri- 
cades; peered  over  in  some  trepidation,  and  found  the 
Chinese  riflemen  gone.  Every  soul  had  fled.  Some- 
thing had  most  certainly  happened  somewhere.  This 
quiet  was  becoming  more  and  more  eloquent.  .    .    . 

We  abandoned  our  cover,  and  boldly  taking  to  the 
brick-littered  street,  climbed  over  fortifications  which 
had  shut  us  in  for  so  long.  Not  a  sound  or  a  living 
thing.  On  the  ground,  however,  there  were  many  grim 
evidences  of  the  struggle  which  had  been  so  long  pro- 
ceeding. Skulls  picked  clean  by  crows  and  dogs  and  the 
dead  bodies  of  the  scavenger-dogs  themselves  dotted  the 


286  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

ground;  in  other  places  were  pathetic  wisps  of  pigtails 
half  covered  with  rubbish,  broken  rifles,  rusted  swords, 
heaps  of  brass  cartridges — all  proclaiming  the  bitterness 
with  which  the  warfare  had  been  waged  in  this  small 
corner  alone.  Eagerly  gazing  about  us,  we  slowly 
pushed  on,  drinking  in  all  these  details  with  eager  eyes. 
How  sweet  it  is  to  be  an  escaped  prisoner  even  for  a  few 
short  minutes ! 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  had  cleared  the  ground 
intervening  between  our  defences  and  the  long-aban- 
doned Customs  Street — perhaps  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards;  and  peering  about  us,  we  at  last  jumped  over  the 
French  barricade,  where  our  first  man  had  been  shot 
dead  two  months  ago.  Two  months — it  might  have 
been  two  years !  Still  there  was  not  a  sound.  Nothing 
but  acres  of  ruins.     Forward. 

Splitting  into  two  sections,  we  began  working  down 
Customs  Street  towards  the  Austrian  Legation,  tightly 
hugging  the  walls  and  expecting  a  surprise  every 
moment.  Suddenly,  as  we  were  going  along  in  this 
cautious  manner,  a  tall,  gaunt  Chinaman  started  up  only 
twenty  feet  from  us,  where  he  had  been  lying  buried  in 
the  ruins.  Our  rifles  went  up  with  a  leap,  and 
"Master,"  cried  the  man,  running  towards  me  with  out- 
stretched arms,  "master,  save  me;  I  am  a  carter  of  the 
foreign  Legations,  and  have  only  just  escaped."  He 
pulled  up  his  blue  tunic,  this  strange  apparition,  and 
showed  me  underneath  his  scapula.  He  was  of  Roman 
Catholic  family ;  there  was  no  time  to  investigate ;  he  was 
all  right.  Telling  him  to  join  us,  we  marched  on.  We 
progressed  another  fifty  yards,  and  then  there  was  a 
scuffle.  I  looked  round,  and  our  Catholic  had  disap- 
peared.   Were  we  trapped?    Just  as  I  was  calling  out, 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  287 

he  reappeared;  this  time  he  was  bearing  a  rifle  and  a 
bandolier.  This  was  disconcerting.  "I  saw  the  man," 
he  began  calmly,  "and  with  my  hands  I  killed  him  by 
pulling  on  the  throat — thus."  He  made  a  horrid  panto- 
mime with  his  hands.  Behind  a  wall  we  found  the 
red  and  black  tunic  of  a  Chinese  soldier,  the  sash  and 
the  boots,  but  of  a  corpse  there  was  no  sign.  I  was 
glad  I  understood.  "What  do  you  mean  by  deceiving 
me?"  I  sternly  asked  the  carter.  "These  are  yours,  and 
it  was  you  who  were  fighting  against  us."  The  man  fell 
on  his  knees,  and  confessed  then  and  there  without  sub- 
terfuge. He  had  been  captured,  he  said,  and  imprisoned 
weeks  ago  by  a  Chinese  commander,  who  had  threatened 
to  break  the  bones  of  his  legs  unless  he  enlisted  against 
us.  So  he  had  joined  and  had  been  fighting  for  a  month. 
Last  night,  as  soon  as  the  big  guns  had  been  heard, 
he  deserted,  and  had  lain  where  we  found  him  for  fifteen 
hours,  waiting  for  our  advances,  and  may  his  legs  be 
broken  if  he  lied.  I  paused  in  doubt  for  a  minute;  then 
I  made  up  my  mind — we  let  him  follow !  The  odds 
were  in  any  case  against  him. 

As  we  moved  stealthily  forward  we  came  on  more  and 
more  fortifications.  A  formidable  blockhouse  had  been 
constructed  by  dragging  out  big  steel  safes,  looted  from 
the  various  European  offices  in  this  abandoned  area,  and 
building  them  into  a  thick  half-moon  of  stone  and  brick, 
making  a  shell-proof  defence.  On  the  ground  brass 
cartridge-cases  and  broken  straps  and  weapons  were 
littered  more  and  more  thickly,  but  of  any  sign  of  life 
there  was  absolutely  none.  Absolute  stillness  reigned 
around  us.  We  might  have  been  in  a  city  abandoned 
for  dozens  of  years.  .   .   . 

Past  this  blockhouse  we  crept  more  and  more  cautiously, 


288         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

beating  the  ground  thoroughly,  and  wasting  many  min- 
utes to  make  sure  that  no  riflemen  lurked  in  the  ruins 
which  covered  the  ground.  Our  new  recruit  had  shown 
us  how  easily  we  could  be  trapped.  Loopholes  squinted 
at  us  from  countless  low-lying  barricades  roughly  made 
by  heaping  bricks  and  charred  timbers  together.  They 
had  feared  our  sorties  evidently  as  much  as  we  had  their 
rushes,  had  these  Chinese  soldiers.  Their  fortified  lines 
were  hundreds  of  feet  deep. 

We  were  now  down  near  the  abandoned  Austrian  Lega- 
tion, and,  rapidly  trotting  forward  in  Indian  file  under 
cover  of  the  high  encircling  wall,  we  at  last  reached  the 
main  entrance.  This  was  debatable  ground.  I  looked 
round  the  corner  with  one  cautious  eye,  and  even  as  I  did 
so,  a  shadow  rushed  along  the  ground.  .  .  .  Instantly 
I  snapped  off  my  rifle  from  my  hip,  the  others  followed 
suit,  and  a  howl  of  canine  rage  answered  us.  We  had 
rolled  over  a  wolfish  dog  searching  for  dead  bodies. 
Before  we  had  time  to  realise  much,  the  savage  animal 
was  up  again  and  rushing  at  us — to  escape  through  the 
gate.  As  it  passed,  we  clubbed  and  bayonetted  him  with 
neatness,  for  we  have  now  some  art  in  close-quarter 
work,  and  with  a  last  howl  the  animal's  life  flickered  out. 
Dogs  are  highly  dangerous,  as  we  knew  to  our  cost; 
they  give  the  alarm  in  a  way  which  no  living  man,  even 
in  these  civilised  days,  can  fail  to  understand.  We 
waited  in  some  anguish  to  see  whether  this  scuffle  had 
been  heard;  we  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  from  our 
own  lines  by  the  circuitous  route  we  had  been  forced  to 
take,  and  if  we  were  ambuscaded,  no  one  would  probably 
go  back  to  tell  the  tale.  .    .    . 

Still  not  a  sound,  not  a  word.  A  little  encouraged,  we 
crept  more  valiantly  into  the  Austrian  Legation,  and 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  289 

stood  amazed  at  the  spectacle.  Rank-growing  weeds 
covered  the  ground  two  or  three  feet  high;  all  the  houses 
and  residences  had  been  gutted  by  fire,  everything  com- 
bustible burned,  leaving  a  terrible  litter.  But  the  brick- 
work and  stonework  stood  almost  intact,  and  the  tall 
Corinthian  pillars  with  which  it  had  been  the  architect's 
fancy  to  adorn  this  mission  of  His  Most  Catholic 
Majesty,  stood  up  white  and  chaste  in  all  this  scene  of 
devastation  and  ruin ;  they  might  have  dated  from 
centuries  ago.  Broken  weapons,  thousands  more  of 
brass  cartridges,  and  sometimes  even  a  soldier's  blood- 
stained tunic  could  be  seen  among  the  weeds.  This  must 
have  been  the  site  of  another  camp  of  Chinese  soldiery. 
Abandoned  straw  matting  showed  where  rough  huts  had 
once  been  built  line  upon  line.  But  all  these  hosts  had 
flown. 

We  now  held  a  council  of  war.  What  should  we  do — 
push  on  or  go  back?  It  seemed  highly  dangerous,  but 
suddenly  making  up  my  mind,  I  cut  short  all  delibera- 
tions and  ordered  an  advance.  To  feel  for  the  enemy, 
to  get  in  touch  with  the  enemy  at  all  costs,  and  to  scratch 
him  if  possible,  is  evidently  the  scout's  duty,  even  when 
the  scout  is  but  a  siege  amateur,  with  broken  trousers, 
a  mud-stained  shirt  and  a  battered  rifle.  But  we  must 
make  ourselves  secure.  We  bolted  the  big  gates  behind 
us;  we  sweatily  piled  up  sufficient  bricks  to  make  its 
opening  a  matter  of  minutes  for  an  enemy's  hand,  and 
then  we  once  again  trotted  forward.  This  time  we  were 
irrevocably  inside  the  Legation,  and  separated,  perhaps, 
for  good  and  all  from  our  own  people.  .    .    . 

We  rapidly  covered  the  ground  until  we  reached  the 
extreme  eastern  corner  of  the  vast  enclosing  Legation 
wall.     Very  recently  there  had  been  some  one  just  here, 


290         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

for  a  fire  was  still  smouldering  on  the  ground,  and  in 
some  earthenware  bowls  there  was  some  cold  rice.  We 
must  see  what  was  beyond.  .   .   . 

The  big  recruit  lent  me  his  broad  shoulder,  and  with 
some  struggling  I  caught  the  edge  of  an  outhouse  roof 
and  hitched  myself  astride  of  the  main  wall.  Still  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  except  ruined  and  battered  houses;  again 
not  a  soul,  not  a  dog,  not  a  vestige  of  life.  The  others 
came  up,  too,  and  we  rapidly  improvised  a  ladder  to 
get  down  the  other  side  and  back  again  if  necessary. 

We  were  busily  at  work  completing  these  preparations 
when  suddenly  the  big  recruit  grabbed  me  unceremoni- 
ously by  the  shoulder  and  uttered  a  single  word  in  a 
hoarse  tone  of  excitement.  "Look,"  he  said;  "look!" 
I  looked,  and  far  down  the  street  below  us  towards 
where  lay  the  Palace  and  the  Imperial  city,  I  saw  a  figure 
rapidly  moving.  A  pair  of  binoculars  were  pulled  out 
and  brought  to  bear.     It  was  a  Chinese  soldier! 

We  flattened  ourselves  on  the  top  of  the  wall  like  so 
many  crawling  snails,  pushed  out  our  rifles  in  front  of  us, 
and  at  four  hundred  yards  we  most  foolishly  opened  on 
the  man.  By  instinct  and  experience,  we  had  all  learned 
much  in  two  months;  yet  in  a  moment  of  excitement 
everything  was  being  rapidly  unlearned.  .    .    . 

It  takes  some  shooting  to  get  home  on  a  flickering 
figure,  dodging  along  a  street  with  irregular  lines,  at 
that  range,  and  I  confess  we  drew  no  blood.  But  still 
loophole  shooting  must  spoil  open-air  work,  otherwise 
at  that  range.  .  .  .  The  man  had  paused  irresolutely 
as  the  stream  of  bullets  had  hissed  past  him,  and  had 
then  run  violently  into  a  doorway.  Presently,  as  we 
intently  watched,  his  head  emerged,  then  his  whole 
body;    and,   finally    dodging    quickly    in    and    out,    he 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  291 

gained  a  cross-road  and  disappeared.     What  did  this 
mean? 

It  did  not  take  long  to  learn,  for  just  as  we  had  finished 
swearing  at  our  ill  luck,  other  figures  began  to  appear  in 
the  same  direction,  and  as  they  ran  we  could  see  that 
they  were  throwing  down  their  things.  It  seemed 
plain  now;  these  must  be  deserters  slipping  out  of  the 
Imperial  city  and  the  Palace  enclosures  and  fleeing 
rapidly  to  escape  some  fate.  Something  must  have 
certainly  happened  somewhere,  although  there  was  still 
nothing  to  be  heard,  except  perhaps  a  distant  movement 
in  the  air,  which  might  mean  the  rattle  of  musketry. 
Sometimes  we  could  hear  that  faint  suggestion  of  sound, 
sometimes  we  could  not;  it  was  impossible  to  say  what  it 
was. 

Running  gives  Dutch  courage,  so  we  dropped  from  our 
wall,  and  we,  too,  began  running — towards  the  deserters. 
Most  foolish  scouts  were  we  becoming.  The  first  band 
of  fugitives  saw  us  and  bolted  to  the  north,  one  man 
loosing  oft  his  rifle  at  us  as  he  ran,  and  his  bullet  making 
an  ugly  swish  in  the  air  just  above  our  heads.  It  was 
that  Chinese  hip-shot  which  is  practised  with  jingal  and 
matchlock  in  the  native  hunting,  and  which  these  North- 
ern Chinese  can  with  difficulty  unlearn.  As  that  swish 
reached  us  we  pressed  forward  even  more  eagerly,  and 
soon  had  debouched  once  more  on  the  long  Customs 
Street — this  time  many  hundreds  of  yards  higher  up 
than  we  had  ever  been  before.  Flattening  ourselves  on 
the  ground,  and  barricading  our  heads  with  bricks,  we 
waited  in  silence  for  more  of  the  enemy  to  appear.  We 
were  now  admirably  and  safely  posted. 

It  was  some  time  before  any  more  of  them  were  to  be 
seen,  but  at  last,  in  twos  and  threes,  other  soldiers  ap- 


292         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

peared,  running  hurriedly,  and  looking  quickly  about 
them,  as  if  they  expected  to  be  shot  down.  This  time 
they  were  men  of  many  corps,  whose  uniforms  we  could 
almost  make  out  at  this  short  distance,  and  as  they  ran 
many  of  them  threw  off  their  tunics  and  loosened  their 
leggings.  This  meant  open  and  flagrant  desertion. 
Just  as  I  was  about  to  give  the  order  to  fire  a  volley,  a 
dense  mass  of  men,  in  close  formation,  came  out  of  a 
great  building  leaning  up  against  the  pink  Palace  walls 
and  started  marching  rapidly  towards  us.  Then  as  soon 
as  they  reached  a  cross-road  five  hundred  yards  away, 
they  bent  quickly  due  north  and  disappeared  in  a  cloud 
of  dust.  What  did  this  fleeing  to  the  north  of  the  city 
and  this  ominous  quiet  mean  ?  What  in  the  name  of  all 
that  is  extraordinary  was  happening  to  cause  these 
strange  doings  ? 

There  was  little  time  for  reflection,  however,  for  like 
some  theatre  of  the  gods  new  scenes  began  to  unroll. 
Soon  other  bodies  of  troops  appeared  and  disappeared, 
always  heading  away  there  towards  the  north,  always 
marching  rapidly  with  hurried  looks  cast  around  them. 
Now  safe  in  the  knowledge  that  a  general  retreat  was 
taking  place  from  this  quarter,  we  started  volleying  sav- 
agely. Bunched  together  in  twos  and  threes,  the  enemy 
offered  an  easy  mark,  and  with  a  callousness  born  of  long 
privations  we  dropped  at  least  fifteen  or  twenty  men  in 
very  few  minutes.  Lying  flat  on  the  ground  our  angles 
soon  grew  fixed  on  to  our  rifle-sights,  and  at  one  house- 
corner  four  hundred  yards  away,  six  times  I  made  the 
same  shot  and  dropped  a  deserter.  But  this  heavy  fir- 
ing must  have  attracted  attention,  for  lead  began  to  pelt 
at  us  from  hidden  places,  and  soon  this  little  action  be- 
came very  warm.     It  was  a  curious  experience.  .   .  ... 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  293 

It  was  now  three  in  the  afternoon,  and,  excepting  for 
this  unexplained  movement  of  Chinese  troops,  we  had 
not  discovered  any  sign  of  our  relief.  Our  volleying  was 
becoming  nonsensical,  for  having  picked  up  numbers  of 
Chinese  Mauser  cartridges,  we  amused  ourselves  firing 
away  almost  all  the  ammunition  we  carried.  This  could 
not  continue  indefinitely.  So  once  more  I  drew  my  men 
together,  and  once  again  we  scurried  away,  changing  our 
direction  to  due  east  towards  the  great  Ha-ta  Gate.  We 
were  becoming  callous,  now  that  we  knew  there  was 
small  possibility  of  our  being  cut  off,  and  half  a  mile 
from  home  meant  nothing  to  us. 

We  had  almost  reached  the  Ha-ta  great  street,  and 
were  beginning  to  feel  that  by  some  strange  chance  we 
had  half  the  city  to  ourselves,  when  a  furious  galloping 
gave  us  a  timely  signal,  and  made  us  shrink  into  a  native 
house,  the  doorway  of  which  had  been  beaten  in  by 
marauders.  We  were  just  in  time,  for  no  sooner  had  we 
disappeared  than  a  body  of  Manchu  cavalry  came 
rapidly  past,  flogging  their  ponies,  and  shouting  excitedly 
to  one  another  as  they  passed.  At  their  head  were  a  num- 
ber of  high  officials,  and  our  new  recruit  whispered  in  a 
hoarse  voice  that  an  old  man  was  no  other  than  Jung  Lu, 
the  Manchu  Generalissimo,  who  had  command  of  every- 
thing. But  whether  this  was  actually  so  or  not,  there 
could  be  no  doubt  about  the  soldiery.  They  were  ch'in 
ping,  or  body-guard  troops,  in  sky-blue  tunics,  and  this 
retirement  was  the  most  significant  of  all.  There  was 
now  not  a  shadow  of  doubt. 

We  waited  patiently  in  some  trepidation,  until  the 
sound  of  these  galloping  hoofs  had  died  away  com- 
pletely; and  then  peering  out  and  finding  the  coast  clear, 
we  ran  for  it  as  hard  as  we  could  leg.    Faster  and  faster 


294         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

we  spun  along;  we  were  not  as  safe  as  we  thought. 
Three  minutes  brought  us  back  again  on  Customs  Street, 
and,  panting  sorely  from  this  unaccustomed  exertion,  we 
looked  around.  Here  there  was  now  not  a  single  sound, 
not  the  sight  of  a  single  man. 

For  many  minutes  nothing  again  occurred,  but  at  length 
more  Chinese  troops  began  to  appear,  all  running 
rapidly  in  long  flights,  and  a  troop  of  cavalry  came  out  of 
a  side  street  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  away 
from  where  we  lay,  and  headed  away  at  a  furious  gallop. 
Everybody  was  obviously  making  for  the  north  of  the 
city ;  what  was  going  on  in  the  other  quarters  to  cause  this 
exodus?  The  cavalry,  as  they  moved  in  close  formation, 
were  so  tempting,  that  without  hesitation  once  more  our 
rifles  rang  out  in  a  well-knit  volley.  That  caused  a  terri- 
ble commotion,  for  cavalry  are  an  easy  mark.  Ponies 
broke  away  and  galloped  frantically  into  sfde  streets; 
there  was  a  waving  and  a  mix-up  which  blurred  every- 
thing, and  yet  before  we  had  time  to  realise  it,  bullets 
were  hissing  all  round  us  and  kicking  up  little  spurts  of 
dust  a  few  inches  from  our  bodies;  a  resolute  com- 
mander was  in  front  of  us.  This  firing  became  so  violent 
that  we  were  driven  to  take  shelter,  and  as  we  ran  and 
were  seen  the  bullets  hissed  quicker  and  quicker.  Then 
as  suddenly  as  it  had  commenced  this  pelting  ceased; 
we  saw  our  cavalrymen  flicker  away  in  the  distance,  and 
once  more  everything  was  absolutely  quiet.  It  was  ob- 
vious that  something  so  urgent  was  taking  place,  that  no 
one  had  any  time  to  lose  in  pranks. 

Many  minutes  elapsed  before  we  noticed  any  fresh 
signs  of  life,  and  we  remained  spread  across  the  street  on 
our  stomachs,  earnestly  searching  in  vain  for  some  ex- 
planation.   At  last,  when  I  was  becoming  tired  of  it,  fig- 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  295 

ures  began  to  move  on  the  long  street  again — little 
indecisive  blue  dots  that  jerked  forward,  halted,  ap- 
peared and  disappeared  in  a  most  curious  way.  They 
were  also  coming  towards  us — jerking  about  like  people 
possessed.  Climbing  a  wall,  I  brought  my  glasses  to 
bear;  they  were  ordinary  townspeople,  there  was  not  a 
shadow  of  doubt  about  that,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, running  violently,  waving  and  calling  to  one  an- 
other, and  apparently  much  distressed. 

I  remained  on  this  wall-top  idly  gazing  until  my  vision 
began  to  become  blurred,  and  I  could  no  longer  see. 
Then  something  made  me  close  my  eyes  for  a  second  to 
regain  command  over  them  again ;  and  when  I  opened 
them  and  looked  again  through  that  powerful  Leiss,  my 
jaw  dropped.  This  time,  with  a  vengeance,  it  was 
something  new.  Dense  bodies  of  men  in  white  tunics 
and  dark  trousers  were  debouching  into  the  street,  thou- 
sands of  yards  away,  and  were  then  marching  due  east — 
that  is,  towards  the  Palace.  They  came  on  and  on,  until 
it  seemed  they  would  never  cease.  What  were  these 
newcomers  ?  Were  they  white  troops  at  last — were  they 
Bannermen  of  the  white  Banners?  .   .   . 

They  might  be  anything — anything  in  the  world— but 
they  might  be  .    .    . 

Yes,  without  a  doubt  they  might  be  ordinary  Russian 
infantry  of  the  line.  Russian  infantry  of  the  line!  It 
was  imperative  to  learn. 

I  clambered  off  the  wall  and  decided  at  once  on  a  grim 
test.  All  of  us  pushed  up  our  flaps  to  the  extreme  range 
and  gave  four  sharp  volleys — the  eight  rifles  crashing 
off  jarringly  together.  As  we  were  preparing  to  give 
them  the  last  cartridge  on  the  clips,  the  white  specks  we 
could  just  see  with  the  naked  eye  stopped  and  flickered 


296  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

away.  Then  as  we  waited  there  was  a  moment's 
silence;  a  little  vapour  spurted  up  far  away,  and  bang! 
a  shell  whizzed,  and  burst  two  hundred  yards  to  our 
rear.  That  was  an  immense  surprise !  But  now  we  had 
no  doubts;  these  were  European  troops;  the  relief  must 
have  come;  it  was  all  over;  we  must  communicate  the 
news.  .   .    . 

Before  our  ideas  had  grouped  themselves  coherently, 
we  found  ourselves  bolting  home — bolting  like  madmen. 
We  charged  clear  down  the  middle  of  the  street,  with  a 
disregard  for  everything;  we  headed  straight  as  arrows 
for  the  French  lines,  right  through  the  heart  of  the  most 
formidable  Chinese  works,  where  but  twelve  hours 
before  furious  attacks  had  been  developed.  We  tore 
through  hundreds  of  feet  of  trenches,  barricades,  saps, 
half-opened  tunnels,  where  everything  was  scored  and 
beaten  by  the  riotous  passage  of  nickel  and  lead.  We 
vaguely  saw,  as  we  rushed,  lines  of  mat  huts,  broken 
walls,  charred  timbers,  countless  brass  cartridge  cases, 
gaping  holes — all  the  wreckage  left  by  these  weeks  of 
insane  warfare.  But  of  living  things  there  was  not  a 
trace. 

Beating  our  way  rapidly  forward,  we  at  length  passed 
through  those  death-strewn  French  Legation  lines,  and 
reached  our  own  last  barricades,  where  the  defence  had 
been  driven.  Supposing  that  our  men  were  still  behind 
them,  we  violently  shouted  that  we  were  friends.  No- 
body answered  us. 

Curiously  alarmed,  we  clambered  forward  more  and 
more  quickly,  and  at  last  near  the  fortified  little  Hotel 
de  Pekin  a  confused  sound  of  voices  arose  from  a  stoutly 
fortified  quadrangle.  Then  as  we  drew  nearer  the  voices 
grew,  until  they  framed  themselves  into  half-suppressed 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  297 

cheers — a  multitude  of  men  uneasily  greeting  and  calling 
to  one  another.  At  least,  we  had  not  been  abandoned  1 
I  put  my  leg  up  to  swarm  over  a  wall,  and  suddenly  a 
thick  smell  greeted  my  nostrils,  a  smell  I  knew,  because 
I  had  smelt  it  before,  and  yet  a  smell  which  belonged  to 
another  world.  .  .  .  With  tremendous  heart-beating,  I 
looked  over.  It  was  the  smell  of  India  !  Into  this  quad- 
rangle beyond  hundreds  of  native  troops  were  filing  and 
piling  arms.  They  were  Rajputs,  all  talking  together, 
and  greeting  some  of  our  sailors  and  men,  and  demand- 
ing immediately  pane,  pane,  pane  all  the  time  in  a 
monotonous  chorus.  I  could  not  understand  that  word. 
The  relief  had  come;  this  must  be  some  sections  of  an 
advance  guard  which  had  been  flung  forward,  and  had 
burst  in  unopposed.    .    .    . 

We  hurried  forward  in  a  sort  of  daze  and  looked  for 
officers,  to  ask  them  how  they  had  come,  and  whether  it 
was  all  right.  We  found  a  knot  of  them,  standing 
together,  wiping  the  sweat  from  their  streaming  faces, 
and  calling  for  water.  They  wanted  to  go  to  the  British 
Legation;  not  to  this  place — what  was  it;  where  was  the 
British  Legation?  In  the  heat  and  smell  and  excitement 
those  continuous  questions  made  one  confused  and  angry. 
This  advance  guard  which  had  rushed  in  could  not 
understand  our  all-split  area;  yet  it  had  been  the  saving 
of  us.  I  told  them  where  the  British  Legation  was.  I 
told  them  to  follow  me ;  I  was  going  to  run. 

I  ran  on,  once  more  choking  a  little,  and  with  a  curious 
desire  to  weep  or  shout  or  make  uncouth  noises.  I  was 
now  terribly  excited.  I  remember  I  kicked  my  way 
through  barricades  with  such  energy  that  once  for  my 
foolishness  I  came  crashing  down,  my  rifle  loosing  off  of 
its  own  account  and  the  bullet  passing  through  my  hat.   I 


298         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

did  not  care;  the  relief  had  come.  It  was  an  immense 
occasion,  and  I  had  not  been  there  to  see  it. 

Along  the  dry  canal-bed,  as  I  ran  out  of  the  Legation 
Street,  I  noted  without  amazement  that  tall  Sikhs  were 
picking  their  way  in  little  groups,  looking  dog-tired. 
But  they  were  very  excited,  too,  and  waved  their  hands 
to  me  as  I  ran,  and  called  and  cried  with  curious  intona- 
tions. Pioneers,  smaller  men,  in  different  turbans,  were 
already  smashing  down  our  barricades,  and  clearing  a 
road,  and  from  the  west,  the  Palace  side,  a  tremendous 
rifle  and  machine-gun  fire  was  dusting  endlessly.  I 
rushed  into  the  British  Legation  through  the  canal  openr 
cut,  and  here  they  were,  piles  and  piles  of  Indian  troops, 
standing  and  lying  about  and  waving  and  talking.  A 
British  general  and  his  staff  were  seated  at  a  little  table 
that  had  been  dragged  out,  and  were  now  drinking  as 
if  they,  too,  had  been  burned  dry  with  thirst.  Around 
all  our  people  were  crowding  a  confused  mass  of 
marines,  sailors,  volunteers,  Ministers — every  one. 
Many  of  the  women  were  crying  and  patting  the  sweat- 
ing soldiery  that  never  ceased  streaming  in.  People 
you  had  not  seen  for  weeks,  who  might  have,  indeed, 
been  dead  a  hundred  times  without  your  being  any 
the  wiser,  appeared  now  for  the  first  time  from  the 
rooms  in  which  they  had  been  hidden  and  acted  hys- 
terically. They  were  pleased  to  rush  about  and  fetch 
water  and  begin  to  tell  their  experiences.  All  that 
day,  I  was  told,  these  hidden  ones  had  taken  a  sudden 
interest  in  the  hospital;  had  roused  themselves  from 
their  lethargy  and  fright,  because  the  end  was  coming. 
Now  .    .    . 

As  we  stood  about,  twisting  our  fingers  and  cheering, 
and  trying  to  find  something  sensible  to  say  or  to  do, 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  299 

there  was  a  rush  of  people  towards  the  lines  connecting 
with  the  American  Legation  and  the  Tartar  Wall.  This 
caused  another  tremendous  outburst  of  cheering  and 
counter-cheering,  and  led  by  C ,  the  American  Min- 
ister, columns  of  American  infantry  in  khaki  suits  and 
slouch  hats  came  pressing  in.  In  they  came — more  and 
more  men,  until  the  open  squares  were  choking  with 
them.  These  men  were  more  dog-tired  than  the  Indian 
troops,  and  their  uniforms  were  stained  and  clotted  with 
the  dust  and  sweat  flung  on  them  by  the  rapid  advance. 
Soon  there  was  such  confusion  and  excitement  that  all 
order  was  lost,  until  the  Americans  began  filing  out 
again,  and  the  native  troops  were  pushed  to  the  northern 
line  of  defences.  In  the  turmoil  and  delight  everything 
had  been  temporarily  forgotten,  but  the  growing  roar  of 
rifles  had  at  length  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  there 
might  be  more  fierce  fighting.  Every  minute  added  to 
the  din,  and  soon  the  ceaseless  patter  of  sound  showed 
machine-guns  were  firing  like  fury.  Somebody  called 
out  to  me  that  there  was  a  fine  sight  to  be  seen  from 
the  Tartar  Wall,  for  those  who  did  not  mind  a  few 
more  bullets;  and,  enticed  by  the  storm  of  sound  that 
rose  ever  higher  and  higher,  I  ran  hastily  through  our 
lines  towards  the  city  bastions.  Every  street  and  lane 
from  the  Ch'ien  Men  Gate  was  now  choked  with  troops 
of  the  relieving  column,  all  British  and  American,  as  far 
as  I  could  see,  and  already  the  pioneers  attached  to  each 
battalion  were  levelling  our  rude  defences  to  the  ground 
in  order  to  facilitate  the  passage  of  the  guns  and  trans- 
port waggons.  .  .  .  Strange  cries  smote  one's  ears — all 
the  cursing  of  armed  men,  whose  discipline  has  been  loos- 
ened by  days  of  strain  and  the  impossibility  of  manoeuv- 
ring.    One  word  struck  me  and  clung  to  me  again; 


300         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

everybody   among   the   Indian   troops   was   crying   it: 
"Chullo,  chullo,  chullo,"  they  were  calling. 

The  general  advance,  which  had  been  from  the  outer 
city,  as  soon  as  the  news  had  been  brought  through  that 
a  way  to  the  Legations  had  been  opened,  had  thrown 
the  various  units  into  an  immense  confusion.  Infantry, 
cavalry,  artillery,  and  the  fighting  trains,  were  all  mixed 
in  a  terrible  tangle.  Some  had  come  forward  so  rapidly, 
in  their  eagerness  not  to  be  left  out  of  it  all,  that  they 
had  passed  in  under  the  walls  as  soon  as  the  gates  had 
been  burst  open,  and  had  now  got  jammed  into  our  nar- 
row streets  and  were  unable  to  move.  Just  under  the 
ramp  of  the  Tartar  Wall  I  came  on  some  Indian  cavalry 
— about  thirty  or  forty  troopers  covered  with  mud  and 
dirt,  and  led  by  a  single  British  officer.  As  soon  as  the 
latter  caught  sight  of  me,  he  shouted  an  angry  question 

as  to  what  all  this  firing  meant,  and  how  in  h he 

could  get  out  of  this  into  the  open.  .  .  .  He  rained  his 
questions  at  me  like  the  others  had  done,  never  waiting 
for  an  answer.  The  firing,  in  all  truth,  had  increased 
enormously,  and  now  rang  out  with  a  most  tremendous 
roar.  It  always  came  from  over  there  to  the  northwest, 
round  about  the  Palace  entrances.  Evidently  Chinese 
troops  were  holding  all  the  Palace  gates  in  great  force, 
and  for  some  reason  wished  to  keep  the  relief 
columns  at  bay  at  all  costs  until  nightfall.  I  yelled  some- 
thing of  this  to  my  disconsolate  cavalry  officer,  and  sug- 
gested that  he  should  follow  me  up  the  wall  and  see  for 
himself.  I  knew  nothing.  "Cavalry  can't  climb  a  wall," 
he  furiously  replied  as  I  rushed  up  above,  and  as  I 
climbed  higher  that  voice  followed  me  in  gusts  which 
became  fainter  and  fainter,  "Cavalry  can't  climb  a  walll 
cavalry  can't  climb  a  wall !"    Then  the  road  blotted  him 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  30i 

and  his  voice  completely  out  and  a  swelling  scene  was  be- 
fore me. 

For  up  there  I  soon  understood.  A  mass  of  Indian 
infantry,  with  some  machine-guns,  had  established  them- 
selves for  hundreds  of  yards  along  this  commanding 
height,  among  the  old  Chinese  barricades,  and  were  now 
firing  as  fast  as  they  could  down  into  the  distant  Palace 
enclosures.  Overhead  bullets  were  passing  in  continuous 
streams,  and  crouching  low  in  an  angle  of  the  buttresses 
lay  a  number  of  wounded  men.  Of  the  enemy,  however, 
there  was  no  sign  to  be  seen;  that  he  was  firing  back 
more  and  more  quickly  and  desperately  was  certain.  All 
these  bullets   .    .    . 

As  I  stood  and  looked,  suddenly  the  horrid  bark  of  the 
modern  high-velocity  field-gun  began  down  below  in  our 
lines,  and  the  word  passed  along  that  a  British  battery 
had  succeeded  in  getting  through  the  jam,  and  was  open- 
ing on  the  enemy  from  just  outside  the  Legations.  The 
barking  went  on  very  rapidly  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun.  The  cause  was  not 
long  to  seek;  an  infantry  advance  had  followed,  for 
without  any  warning  swarms  of  Chinese  riflemen  began 
running  out  from  the  nests  of  ruined  Chinese  houses  a 
few  hundred  yards  to  the  rear  of  our  old  lines.  They 
came  out  in  rapid  rushes  just  as  flights  of  startled  spar- 
rows dart  over  the  ground,  and,  although  very  distant, 
from  the  commanding  height  of  the  Tartar  Wall  they 
offered  a  splendid  mark.  The  rifles  rattled  at  them  as 
hard  as  possible,  but  the  practice  was  as  poor  as  ever. 
Of  the  first  batch  a  dozen  fell  and  began  crawling  and 
staggering  away;  but  the  next  lot,  although  they  ran  and 
halted  at  first  like  dazed  men  under  the  sleet  of  nickel, 
rapidly  became  more  cunning.     All  fell  as  if  by  some 


302         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

sudden  signal  on  the  ground,  and  crawling  and  jump- 
ing forward,  they  soon  managed  to  push  through  with- 
out losing  a  single  man,  and  immediately  after  this  there 
was  a  droll  incident  such  as  only  occurs  at  such  times  as 
these. 

These  bunches  of  men  had  ceased  falling  back  in  their 
sudden  rout,  and  the  firing  of  our  men  was  being  concen- 
trated on  some  distant  walls  flanking  the  Palace  en- 
closures, when  a  solitary  Chinese  rifleman,  who  had  evi- 
dently been  forgotten  in  the  turmoil,  trotted  peacefully 
out.  Then,  seeing  he  was  almost  in  the  hands  of  his 
enemies,  he  ran  like  a  hunted  deer  straight  across  a  vast 
open,  v/hich  lies  directly  in  front  of  the  Dynastic  Gate — 
never  seeking  cover,  but  running  like  a  madman  in  the 
open.    It  was  wonderful. 

A  roar  went  up  from  our  whole  line  when  he  was  seen, 
but  the  infantry  did  not  attempt  to  bring  him  down. 
A  single  machine-gun  started  rapping  at  him.  .  .  .  The 
man  ran  faster  and  faster  as  the  swish  of  bullets  hurtled 
around  him,  until  his  legs  were  twinkling  so  rapidly  that 
he  seemed  to  be  fairly  flying.  The  machine-gun  went  on 
rapping  and  clanging  ever  quicker  as  it  followed  him  up, 
and  it  seemed  at  length  impossible  that  he  should  get 
through.  With  a  natural  impulse,  everybody's  attention 
became  concentrated  on  this  fugitive :  would  he  reach 
cover  in  safety?  The  answer  came  almost  before  one 
had  thought  the  question,  for  with  sudden  disgust  the 
machine-gun  stopped  dead;  the  man  ran  a  few  seconds 
longer,  and  then  with  a  last  bound  he  had  disappeared — 
a  tiny  dot  of  blue  and  red  flicking  vaguely  away  behind 
some  wall.  Instinctively,  then,  some  one  began  laugh- 
ing; the  next  man  took  it  up,  and  soon  a  roar  of  hoarse- 
throated  laughter  came  from  the  hundreds  of  Indian 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  303 

soldiery  who  had  witnessed  the  scene.  It  was  like  a  scene 
in  a  theatre  from  that  height,  and  I  remember  that  this 
laughter  of  free  men  resounded  in  my  ears  for  a  long 
time — the  laughter  of  free  men  who  have  never  been  en- 
slaved in  bricks.  It  came  from  straight  off  the  chest, 
without  any  nervous  nasal  twanging  or  sudden 
stopping.  .    .   . 

Soon  after  this  the  firing  dropped  and  dwindled  away 
to  nothing,  as  if  by  common  consent.  Everybody  was 
dog-tired,  and  as  night  fell  both  sides  felt  that  noth- 
ing could  be  gained  or  materially  changed  until  another 
day  had  dawned.  I  wandered  round  for  the  last  time. 
Our  lines,  so  carefully  and  painfully  built  up  during 
those  long  never-ending  weeks,  had  crumbled  to  pieces 
in  half  as  many  hours.  The  barricades  and  trenches  ob- 
structing the  streets  had  been  thrown  all  in  a  lump  and 
sent  to  join  the  huge  litter  which  surrounded  them. 
There  was  hardly  a  sentry  or  a  picquet  to  be  seen,  only  a 
hundred  of  little  camp-fires  twinkling  and  twinkling 
everywhere.  Such  battalions  and  units  as  had  pushed  in 
had  bivouacked  exactly  where  they  had  halted.  Far 
away  under  the  Tartar  Wall,  on  the  long,  sandy  stretches, 
there  were  little  wood  fires  blazing  at  regular  intervals, 
with  countless  dots  moving  around.  From  a  hundred 
other  places  there  came  that  confused  murmur  which 
speaks  of  masses  of  men  and  animals.  There  were  faint 
cries,  hoarse  calls,  and  orders,  with  always  a  vague 
undercurrent  trembling  in  the  air.  For  the  time  being, 
they  were  only  British  and  American  troops — not  a 
soldier  of  a  single  other  nationality  had  been  seen.  As 
the  hours  went,  other  people,  whose  troops  had  not  come 
in,  began  making  excuses,  and  pretending  that  their  gen- 
erals were  very  wise  in  acting  as  they  had  done.    There 


304         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

were  all  sorts  of  theories.  Some  said  that  they  were 
securing  all  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  capturing  the 
Court,  and  seeing  to  very  important  things.  It  was  the 
political  situation  of  three  months  ago  being  suddenly 
reborn,  reincarnated,  by  all  these  people,  before  we  had 
even  breathed  the  air  of  freedom.  It  was  for  this  that 
we  had  been  rescued  by  the  main  body  of  the  troops : 
merely  because  had  we  been  all  killed  and  all  recent 
Peking  history  made  an  utter  blank,  there  would 
have  been  a  terrible  gulf  which  no  protocols  could 
bridge.  It  would  have  meant  an  end,  an  absolute 
end,  such  as  governments  and  their  distinguished  ser- 
vants do  not  really  love.  We  were  mere  puppets, 
whose  rescue  would  set  everything  merrily  dancing 
again — marionettes  made  the  sport  of  mad  events. 
We  had  merely  saved  diplomacy  from  an  impossible 
situation.  .  .    . 

As  I  stood  there  in  the  night,  thinking  of  these  things, 
and  trying  to  escape  from  people  with  theories,  a  faint 
cheering  arose,  a  hurrahing  which  somehow  had  but  lit- 
tle vigour.  I  knew  what  it  meant ;  the  ground  was  being 
noisily  cleared  right  up  to  the  Palace  walls,  to  make  sure 
that  none  of  the  enemy  were  lurking  in  the  ruins,  and 
that  the  play  could  begin  merrily  on  the  morrow.  After 
that  cheering  came  a  few  dull  explosions,  the  blowing-up 
of  a  few  unnecessary  walls,  and  then  all  was  dead  quiet 
again,  excepting  for  the  faint  stirring  of  the  soldiery 
encamped  around  us,  which  never  ceased.  There  was 
not  a  volley,  not  a  shot.  It  was  all  over,  this  siege, 
everything  was  finished. 

With  a  growing  blackness  and  distress  in  my  heart, 
which  I  could  not  explain,  and  sought  in  vain  to  dis- 
guise, I  wandered  about.     I  wanted  some  more  move- 


HOW  I  SAW  THE  RELIEF  305 

ment — some  fresh  distraction  to  tear  my  attention  away 
from  gloomy  thoughts. 

Near  the  battered  Hotel  de  Pekin  officers  who  had 
strayed  from  their  commands  and  who  were  hungry  had 
already  gathered,  and  were  paying  in  gold  for  anything 
they  could  buy.  Luckily,  there  were  a  few  cases  of 
champagne  left  and  a  few  tins  of  potted  things,  which 
could  now  be  tranquilly  sold.  I  found  some  French  uni- 
forms. Some  officers  had  at  last  come  in  from  the 
French  commander,  saying  that  at  daylight  the  French 
columns  would  march  in.  At  present  they  were  too  ex- 
hausted to  move. 

All  these  men,  seated  at  the  tables,  were  noisily  discuss- 
ing the  relief.  I  learned  how  it  had  been  effected  and 
the  moves  of  the  few  preceding  days.  They  said  that 
the  Russians  had  attempted  to  steal  a  march  on  the 
Japanese  on  the  night  of  the  13th,  in  order  to  force 
the  Eastern  gates,  and  reach  the  Imperial  city  and  the 
Empress  Dowager  before  any  one  else.  That  had 
upset  the  whole  plan  of  attack,  and  there  had  then 
simply  been  a  mad  rush,  every  one  going  as  hard 
as  possible,  and  trusting  to  Providence  to  pull  them 
through. 

Most  of  the  officers  at  the  tables  soon  became  highly 
elated.  That  is  the  way  when  your  stomach  has  been 
fed  on  hard  rations  and  you  have  had  fourteen  days  of 
the  sun.  They  then  all  began  shouting  and  singing  and 
not  talking  so  much.  But  still  they  were  all  devilishly 
keen  to  know  about  the  siege,  and  who  had  fought  best, 
and  who  had  been  killed. 

I  left  them  in  what  remains  of  a  little  barricaded  and 
fortified  hotel  disputing  away  in  rather  a  foolish  fashion, 
because  they  were  more  or  less  inebriate  and  the  sun  had 


306         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

burned  them  badly.  And  speeding  to  my  cache,  I  drew 
out  my  two  blankets  and  my  waterproof.  While  I  had 
been  forgetting  other  things,  I  had  learned  two  new 
things — how  to  sleep  and  how  to  shoot — and  now  since 
there  was  no  more  need  to  practise  the  one,  I  would  do 
the  other. 


PART  III  --  THE  SACK 


THE    PALACE 

1 6th  August,   1900. 


The  next  morning  (which  was  only  yesterday!)  I 
awoke  in  much  the  same  strange  despondency.  Around 
me,  as  the  grey  light  stole  softly  into  my  lean-to,  every- 
thing was  absolutely  quiet.  It  was  the  same  in  every  way 
as  it  had  been  the  morning  after  the  last  terrible  night; 
and  yet  that  was  already  so  long  ago !  Almost  mechani- 
cally, I  searched  the  breast  pocket  of  my  soil-worn  shirt 
for  the  previous  day's  orders,  so  as  to  see  about  picquet 
posting;  then  I  remembered  suddenly,  with  a  curious 
heart-sinking,  that  it  was  all  over,  finished,  completed. 
...  It  was  so  strange  that  it  should  be  so — that  every- 
thing should  have  come  so  suddenly  to  an  end.  After 
all  those  experiences,  to  be  lying  on  the  ground  like 
some  tramp  in  Europe,  without  a  thing  to  one's  name, 
was  to  be  merely  grotesque  and  incongruous.  Yet  it 
was  necessary  to  become  accustomed  immediately  to  the 
idea  that  one  belonged  to  the  ordinary  world,  where 
one  would  not  be  distinguished  from  one's  fellow; 
where  everything  was  quiet  and  orderly.  .  .  .  And 
I  was  separated  from  this  by  such  a  mighty  gulf.  I 
knew  so  many  things  now.  What !  was  I  no  longer  to 
experience  that  supreme  delight  of  shooting  and  being 


308  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

shot  at — of  that  unending  excitement?  Oh!  was  it 
really  over?  .   .   . 

I  got  up,  and  shook  myself  disconsolately,  retied  what 
remained  of  a  neckcloth,  and  then  looked  in  disgust  at 
my  boots.  My  boots !  Two  and  a  half  months'  work 
and  sleep  in  them — my  only  pair — had  not  improved 
their  appearance.  Yet  I  had  not  even  suspected  that  be- 
fore; the  evil  fruit  of  relief  had  made  my  nakedness 
clear.  .    .    . 

Alongside  the  whole  post  of  ten  men  was  still  peace- 
fully slumbering — regulars  andvolunteers  heaped  impar- 
tially together.  Poor  devils!  Each  one,  after  the  enor- 
mous excitement  of  the  relief,  had  come  back  mechani- 
cally to  his  accustomed  place,  because  this  strange  life  of 
ours,  imposed  by  the  discipline  of  events,  has  become  a 
second  nature,  which  we  scarcely  know  how  to  shake  off. 
Like  tired  dogs,  we  still  creep  into  our  holes.  The 
youngest  were  moaning  and  tossing,  as  they  have  done 
every  night  for  weeks  past — shaking  off  sleep  like  a 
harmful  narcotic,  because  the  poison  of  fighting  is  too 
strong  for  most  blood  in  these  degenerate  days.  What 
sounds  have  I  not  heard  during  the  past  two  months — 
what  sighs,  what  gasps,  what  groans,  what  muttered 
protests !  When  men  lie  asleep,  their  imaginations  be- 
tray their  secret  thoughts.  .    .    . 

Day  had  not  broken  properly  before  the  murmur  and 
movements  of  the  night  before  rose  again.  This  time, 
as  I  looked  around  me,  they  were  more  marked — as  if 
the  relieving  forces  had  become  half  accustomed  to  their 
strange  surroundings,  and  were  acting  with  the  freedom 
of  familiarity.  There  were  bugle-calls  and  trumpet- 
calls,  the  neighing  and  whinnying  of  horses,  the  rumble 
of  heavy  waggons,  calls  and  cries.  .    .   .  But  hidden  by 


THE  PALACE  309 

the  high  walls  and  the  barricades,  nothing  could  be  seen. 
We  got  something  to  eat,  and,  wishing  to  explore,  I 
marched  down  to  the  dry  canal-bed,  jumped  in,  and 
made  for  the  Water-Gate,  through  which  the  first  men 
had  come.  In  a  few  steps  I  was  outside  the  Tartar 
Wall,  for  the  first  time  for  nearly  three  long  months. 
At  last  there  was  something  to  be  seen.  Far  along  here, 
there  were  nothing  but  bivouacs  of  soldiery  moving  un- 
easily like  ants  suddenly  disturbed,  and  as  I  tramped 
through  the  sand  towards  the  great  Ch'ien  Men  Gate  I 
could  see  columns  of  other  men,  already  in  movement, 
though  day  had  just  come,  winding  in  and  out  from  the 
outer  Chinese  city.  Thick  pillars  of  smoke,  that  hung 
dully  in  the  morning  air,  were  rising  in  the  distance  as  if 
fire  had  been  set  to  many  buildings;  but  apart  from  these 
marching  troops  there  was  not  a  living  soul  to  be  seen. 
The  ruins  and  the  houses  had  become  mere  landmarks 
and  the  city  a  veritable  desert. 

I  wandered  about  listlessly  and  exchanged  small  talk 
disconsolately  with  numbers  of  people.  Nobody  knew 
what  was  going  to  happen,  but  everybody  was  trying  to 
learn  from  somebody  else.  The  wildest  rumours  were 
circulating.  The  Russians  and  Japanese  had  disap- 
peared through  the  Eastern  Gates  of  the  city,  and  the 
gossip  was  that  each,  in  trying  to  steal  a  march  on  the 
other,  had  knocked  up  against  large  bodies  of  Chinese 
troops,  who,  still  retaining  their  discipline,  had  stood 
their  ground  and  inflicted  heavy  losses  on  the  rivals. 
But  whether  this  was  true  or  not,  there  was,  for  the  time 
being,  no  means  of  knowing.  T  thought  of  my  last 
rifle-shots  of  the  siege  at  those  endless  white  and  black 
dots,  which  had  suddenly  debouched  on  that  long,  dusty 
street,  and  held  my  tongue.    Idly  we  waited  to  see  what 


310         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

was  going  to  happen.  After  so  many  climaxes  one's 
imagination  totally  failed. 

It  was  still  very  early  in  the  morning  when,  without 
any  warning,  gallopers  came  suddenly  from  the  Ameri- 
can headquarters  and  set  all  the  soldiery  in  motion.  I 
remember  that  it  seemed  only  a  few  minutes  before  the 
American  infantry  had  become  massed  all  round  the 
southern  entrances  to  the  Palace,  while  with  a  quickness 
which  came  as  an  odd  surprise  to  me  after  the  delibera- 
tion of  the  siege  field-guns  suddenly  opened  on  the  Im- 
perial Gates.  A  number  of  shells  were  pitched  against 
the  huge  iron-clamped  entrances  at  a  range  of  a  few 
hundred  yards  with  a  horrid  coughing,  and  presently, 
yielding  to  this  bombardment,  with  a  crash  the  first  line 
had  been  beaten  to  the  ground.  I  understood  then  why 
the  powerful  American  Gatlings  had  been  kept  playing 
on  the  fringe  of  walls  and  roofs  beyond;  for  as  the 
infantry  charged  forward  in  some  confusion,  with  their 
cheering  and  bugling  filling  the  air,  the  dusting  Chinese 
fire,  which  we  knew  so  well,  rang  out  with  an  unending 
rattle  and  hissing.  Thousands  of  riflemen  had  been 
silently  lying  inside  the  Palace  enclosures  ever  since  the 
previous  afternoon  waiting  for  this  opportunity.  It  was 
the  last  act.    Well,  it  had  come.  .    .    . 

The  Chinese  fire  was  partially  effective,  for  as  I  ran 
forward  through  the  burst  and  bent  gates,  panting  as  if 
my  heart  would  break,  a  trickle  of  wounded  American 
soldiers  came  slowly  filing  out.  Some  Were  hobbling, 
unsupported,  with  pale  faces,  and  some  were  being 
carried  quite  motionless.  On  the  ground  of  this  first 
vast  enclosure,  which  was  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
yards  long  and  entirely  paved  with  stone,  were  a  num- 
ber of  Chinese  dead — men  of  some  resolution,  who  had 


THE   PALACE  311 

met  the  charge  in  the  open  and  died  like  soldiers.  That, 
indeed,  had  been  our  own  experience.  Even  with  the 
ambiguous  orders  which  must  have  been  given  in  every 
command  ranged  against  us,  there  were  always  men 
who  could  not  be  restrained,  but  charged  right  up  to  our 
bayonets.  .  .  .  Now  as  I  ran  forward  firing  was  going 
on  just  as  heavily,  and  the  ugly  rush  and  swish  of  bullets 
filled  the  air  with  war's  rude  music.  It  seemed  curious 
to  me  that  every  one  should  be  out  in  the  open  with  no 
cover;  after  a  siege  one  has  queer  ideas. 

The  bursting  of  this  first  set  of  gates  meant  very  little, 
as  I  personally  knew  full  well,  for  immediately  beyond 
was  a  far  more  powerful  line,  with  immense  pink  walls 
heaving  straight  up  into  the  air.  The  Tartar  conquerors, 
who  had  designed  this  Palace,  had  with  good  purpose 
made  their  Imperial  residence  a  last  citadel  in  the  huge 
city  of  Peking — a  citadel  which  could  be  easily  defended 
to  the  death  in  the  old  days  even  when  the  enemy  had 
seized  all  the  outer  walls,  for  without  powerful  cannon 
the  place  was  impregnable.  On  the  sky-line  of  this  great 
outer  wall  Chinese  riflemen,  with  immense  audacity, 
still  remained,  and  as  I  ran  for  cover  rifles  were  quickly 
and  furiously  discharged  at  me.  .  .  .  Presently  the 
American  guns  came  rapidly  forward,  but  their  com- 
manders were  wary,  and  did  not  seem  to  like  to  risk  them 
too  close.  There  was  a  short  lull,  while  immense  scaling 
ladders,  made  by  the  Americans  for  attacking  the  city 
walls  in  case  the  relief  had  failed  to  get  in  any  other 
way,  were  rushed  up.  The  idea  was  evidently  to  storm 
the  walls  and  batter  in  the  gates,  line  upon  line,  until  the 
Imperial  residences  were  reached  and  the  inmost  square 
taken.  It  might  take  many  hours  if  there  was  much 
resistance.     The  area  to  be  covered  was  immense.     To 


312         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

the  north  a  faint  booming  proclaimed  that  other  forces, 
perhaps  the  Russians  and  the  Japanese  still  in  rivalry, 
were  at  work  on  this  huge  Forbidden  City,  racing  once 
more  to  see  that  neither  got  the  advantage  of  the  other. 
.  .  .  All  this  meant  slow  work  without  startling  de- 
velopments. Everybody  was  moving  very  deliberately, 
as  if  time  was  of  no  value.  A  new  idea  came  into  my 
head.  It  was  impossible  to  cover  such  distances  con- 
tinually on  foot  without  becoming  exhausted.  Already 
I  was  tired  out.  I  must  seize  a  mount  somewhere  before 
it  was  too  late.     I  must  go  back. 

Trotting  quickly,  I  reached  the  Legation  area  to  find 
that  the  scene  had  changed.  The  ruined  streets  were 
once  again  filled  with  troops.  The  transport  and  fight- 
ing trains  of  a  number  of  Indian  regiments,  which  had 
spent  the  night  somewhere  in  the  outer  Chinese  city,  had 
evidently  been  hurriedly  pushed  forward  at  daylight  to 
be  ready  for  any  eventualities.  Ambulance  corps  and 
some  very  heavy  artillery  were  mixed  with  all  these 
moving  men  and  kicking  animals  in  hopeless  confusion, 
and  rude  shouts  and  curses  filled  the  air  as  all  tried  to 
push  forward.  Among  these  countless  animals  and  their 
jostling  drivers  it  was  almost  impossible  to  fight  one's 
way;  but  with  a  struggle  I  reached  the  dry  canal,  and, 
once  more  jumping  down,  I  had  a  road  to  myself.  I 
went  straight  along  it. 

Under  the  Tartar  Wall,  as  I  climbed  again  to  the 
ground-level,  I  met  the  head  of  fresh  columns  of  men. 
This  time  they  were  white  troops — French  Infanterie 
Coloniale,  in  dusty  blue  suits  of  torn  and  discoloured 
Nankeen.  There  must  have  been  thousands  of  them, 
for  after  some  delay  they  got  into  movement,  and,  en- 
veloped in  thick  clouds  of  dust,  these  solid  companies  of 


THE   PALACE  313 

blue  uniforms,  crowned  with  dirty-white  helmets,  started 
filing  past  me  in  an  endless  stream.  The  officers  were 
riding  up  and  down  the  line,  calling  on  the  men  to  exert 
themselves,  and  to  hurry,  hurry,  hurry.  But  the  rank 
and  file  were  pitifully  exhausted,  and  their  white,  drawn 
faces  spoke  only  of  the  fever-haunted  swamps  of 
Tonkin,  whence  they  had  been  summoned  to  participate 
in  this  frantic  march  on  the  capital.  They  had  always 
been  behind,  I  heard,  and  had  only  been  hurried  up  by 
constant  forced  marching,  which  left  the  men  mutinous 
and  valueless.  Once  again  they  were  being  hurried  not 
to  be  too  late.  .    .    . 

I  only  lost  these  troops  to  find  myself  crushed  in  by 
long  lines  of  mountain  artillery  carried  on  mules,  and  led 
by  strange-looking  Annamites.  In  a  thin  line  they 
stretched  away  until  I  could  only  divine  how  many  there 
were.  These  batteries,  however,  were  not  going  for- 
ward, and  to  my  surprise  I  found  the  guns  being  sud- 
denly loaded  and  hauled  to  the  top  of  the  Tartar  Wall 
up  one  of  the  ramparts  which  had  been  our  salvation. 
This  was  a  new  development,  and  in  my  interest,  for- 
getting my  pony,  I  ran  up,  too. 

Up  there  I  found  a  mass  of  people,  mostly  comprising 
those  who  had  been  spectators  rather  than  actors  in  the 
siege.  I  remember  being  seized  with  strange  feelings 
when  I  saw  their  little  air  of  derision  and  their  sneers  as 
they  looked  down  towards  the  Palace  in  pleasurable 
anticipation.  They  imagined,  these  self-satisfied  people 
who  had  done  so  little  to  defend  themselves,  that  a  day 
of  reckoning  had  at  last  come  when  they  would  be  able 
to  do  as  they  liked  towards  this  detestable  Palace,  which 
had  given  them  so  many  unhappy  hours.  It  would  all 
be  destroyed,  burned.     Little  did  they  know  1 


314  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

Soon  enough  these  small  French  batteries  of  light  guns 
came  into  action,  and  sent  a  stream  of  little  shells,  into 
the  Palace  enclosures  a  couple  of  thousand  yards  away. 
The  majority  pitched  on  the  gaudy  roofs  of  Imperial 
pavilions  far  inside  the  Palace  grounds,  bursting  into 
pretty  little  fleecy  clouds,  and  starting  small  smouldering 
fires  that  suddenly  died  down  before  they  had  done  much 
damage.  But  a  number  fell  short,  and  swept  enclosures 
where  I  knew  American  soldiery  had  already  penetrated. 
I  drew  my  breath,  but  said  nothing.  .   .   . 

The  view  from  here  was  perfect.  The  sun  had  risen 
and  was  shining  brightly.  Directly  below  lay  the  ruined 
Legations,  with  their  rude  fortifications  and  thousands 
of  surrounding  native  houses  levelled  flat  to  the  ground; 
but  beyond,  for  many  miles,  stretched  the  vast  city  of 
Peking,  dead  silent,  excepting  for  these  now  accustomed 
sounds  of  war,  and  half  hidden  by  myriads  of  trees, 
which  did  not  allow  one  to  see  clearly  what  was  taking 
place.  The  Palace,  with  its  immense  walls,  its  yellow 
roofs,  and  its  vast  open  places,  lay  mysteriously  quiet, 
too,  while  this  punishment  was  meted  out  on  it.  You 
could  not  understand  what  was  going  on.  To  the  very 
far  north  a  heavy  cloud,  which  had  already  attracted  my 
attention,  now  rose  blacker  and  blacker,  until  it  spread 
like  a  pall  on  the  bright  sky.  Cossacks  or  Japanese,  who 
by  this  time  had  swept  over  the  entire  ground,  must  have 
met  with  resistance ;  they  were  burning  and  sacking,  and 
a  huge  conflagration  had  been  started. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  and  more  I  watched  in  an  idle, 
tired  curiosity,  which  I  could  not  explain,  those  little 
French  shells  bursting  far  away  and  falling  short,  and 
presently,  as  I  expected,  the  inevitable  happened.  A 
young  American  officer  rode  up  and  began  shouting 


THE   PALACE  315 

angrily  up  to  the  Wall.  I  knew  exactly  what  he  meant, 
but  everybody  was  so  interested  that  he  remained  un- 
noticed. And  so,  presently,  more  furious  than  ever,  he 
dismounted  and  rushed  up  red  with  rage.  He  was  so. 
angry  that  he  was  funny.     He  wanted  to  know  if  the 

commander  of  these  d pop-guns  knew  what  he  was 

firing  at,  and  whether  he  could  not  see  the  United  States 
army  in  full  occupation  of  the  bombarded  points.  He 
swore  and  he  cursed  and  he  gesticulated,  until  finally 
cease  fire  was  sounded  and  the  guns  were  ordered  down. 

All  the  Frenchmen  were  furious,  and  I  saw  P ,  the 

Minister,  go  down  in  company  with  the  gaunt-looking 
Spanish  doyen,  vowing  vengeance  and  declaiming  loudly 
that  if  they  were  stopped  everybody  must  be  stopped 
too.  There  must  be  no  favouring;  that  they  would  not 
have.  I  understood,  then,  why  the  mountain  guns  had 
come  so  quickly  into  action;  they  were  gaining  time  for 
that  exhausted  colonial  infantry  to  get  round  to  some 
convenient  spot  and  begin  a  separate  attack.  It  was  each 
one  for  himself. 

Somehow  I  understood  now  that  it  was  a  useless  time 
for  ceremony,  and  that  one  must  act  just  as  one  wished. 
So,  finding  some  ponies  tethered  to  a  post  below,  without 
a  word  I  mounted  one  and  rode  rapidly  back  to  the 
Palace.  For  an  instant,  as  I  passed  the  great  Ch'ieti 
Men  Gate,  I  could  see  Indian  troops  filing  out  in  their 
hundreds,  and  forcing  a  path  through  the  press  of  in- 
coming transport  and  guns.  Evidently  the  British  com- 
manders considered  that  the  thing  was  over;  that  it  was 
no  use  going  on.  Already  they  had  had  enough  of  our 
Peking  methods.    .    .    . 

I  must  have  ridden  nearly  a  mile  straight  through  the 
vast  enclosures  of  the  Palace,  past  lines  and  lines  of 


316         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

American  infantry  lying  on  the  ground,  with  the  reserve 
artillery  trains  halted  under  cover  of  high  walls,  before 
I  saw  ahead  of  me  a  set  of  gates  which  were  still  un- 
broken. General  firing  had  quite  ceased  now,  and  except- 
ing for  an  occasional  shot  coming  from  some  distant 
corner,  there  was  no  sound.  The  bulk  of  the  American 
infantry  had  not  even  been  advanced  as  far  as  I  had 
come.  A  skirmishing  line,  evidently  formed  only  a 
short  time  before  my  arrival,  was  still  lying  on  the 
ground;  but  the  men  were  laughing  and  smoking,  and 
the  officers  had  withdrawn  out  of  the  heat  of  the  sun 
into  a  side  building,  where  they  were  examining  a  map. 
The  scaling-ladders  were  left  behind.  I  was  soon  told 
that  orders  had  come  direct  from  headquarters  to  stop 
the  attack  absolutely,  and  not  to  advance  an  inch  further 
on  any  consideration.  The  inner  courts  of  the  Palace  and 
the  residences  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress  Dow- 
ager could  not  be  approached  until  concerted  action  had 
been  taken  up  by  all  the  Allies.  I  laughed — it  was  the 
hydra-headed  diplomacy  of  Peking  raising  its  head  de- 
fiantly less  than  eighteen  hours  after  the  first  soldiers 
had  rushed  in.   .    .    . 

The  massive  set  of  gates  in  front  of  me  were  those  just 
without  a  most  beautiful  marble  courtyard.  That  I 
knew  from  the  rude  Chinese  maps  of  the  Forbidden  City 
which  are  everywhere  sold;  if  this  boundary  were  passed 
the  Imperial  Palaces,  with  all  their  treasures,  would  be 
reached.  I  thought,  with  my  mouth  watering  a  little, 
although  I  had  no  actual  desire  for  riches,  of  General 
Montauban,  created  Comte  de  Palikao,  because  in  the 
i860  expedition,  when  the  famous  Summer  Palace  was 
so  ruthlessly  sacked,  he  had  taken  all  the  most  splendid 
black  pearls  he  could  find  and  had  carried  them  back  to 


THE   PALACE  317 

the  Empress  Eugenie  as  a  little  offering.  If  one  could 
only  get  past  this  boundary  and  the  protocol  had  not 
stepped  in! 

Moved  a  little  by  such  thoughts,  I  advanced  on  the 
central  gate,  and  peered  through  a  chink  near  which  an 
infantryman  was  standing  alert,  rifle  in  hand.  There 
were  the  marble  courtyards,  the  beautiful  yellow  dec- 
orated roofs.  I  could  see  them  clearly,  and  then  .  .  . 
a  rifle  from  the  other  side  was  discharged  almost  in  my 
ear;  a  bullet  hissed  past  a  few  inches  from  my  head,  too; 
and  I  had  a  flitting  vision  of  a  Chinese  soldier  in  the 
sky-blue  tunic  of  the  Palace  Guards  darting  back  on  the 
other  side.  There  must  still  be  numbers  of  soldiery 
waiting  sullenly  beyond  for  the  expected  advance;  they 
would  only  fall  back  in  rapid  flight  as  our  men  rushed  in, 
just  as  they  had  been  doing  from  the  beginning.  I  dis- 
charged my  own  revolver  rather  aimlessly  through  the 
chink  in  the  hope  that  something  would  happen,  but  all 
became  quiet  again.    Everything  was  finished  here. 

But  although  the  advance  down  this  grand  approach 
to  the  inner  halls  and  Palaces  had  been  stayed,  nothing 
had  been  said  about  piercing  through  the  great  outer  en- 
closures to  the  right  and  left;  and,  catching  my  pony,  I 
rode  round  a  corner  where  a  broad  avenue  led  to  another 
set  of  entrances.  Perhaps  here  would  be  something. 
All  along  I  found  a  sprinkling  of  American  infantry- 
men, in  their  sweaty  and  dust-covered  khaki  suits,  lying 
down  and  fanning  themselves  with  anything  that  came 
handy,  and  sending  rude  jests  at  one  another.  Old- 
fashioned  Chinese  jingals,  gaudy  Banners,  and  even 
Manchu  long-bows,  were  scattered  on  the  ground  in 
enormous  confusion.  The  Palace  Guards  belonging  to 
the  old  Manchu  levies  had  evidently  been  surprised  here 


318         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

by  the  advance  of  the  main  body  of  American  troops 
through  the  Dynastic  Gate,  and  had  fled  panic-stricken, 
abandoning  their  antiquated  arms  and  accoutrements  as 
they  ran.  The  soldiery  who  had  been  doing  all  the 
fighting  and  firing  must  have  been  the  more  modern  field 
forces  engaged  in  the  last  attacks  on  the  Legations,  or 
those  driven  in  on  Peking  by  the  rout  on  the  Tientsin 
road.  Still,  there  was  nothing  worth  seeing,  and  the 
miniature  Tartar  towers  crowning  the  angles  of  the 
great  pink  walls  looked  down  in  contempt,  as  if  conscious 
that  no  enemy  could  hurt  them.     I  must  push  along. 

I  trotted  quickly,  exchanging  chaff  with  the  Americans, 
who  called  out  to  me  with  curious  oaths  that  they  had 

had  no  breakfast,  and  wanted  to  know  why  in  h this 

fun  was  being  stopped,  and  that  they  were  being  left 
there.  Alas !  I  could  give  them  no  news.  I  only  swore 
back  in  the  same  playful  way.  At  the  end  of  an  immense 
wall  I  came  on  the  last  of  this  soldiery — a  corporal's 
guard,  squatting  round  a  small  wicket-gate  and  looking 
very  tired.  They  told  me  that  they  were  still  being  shot 
at  from  somewhere  on  the  inside;  and  even  as  I  paused 
and  looked  a  curious  pot-pourri  of  missiles  grounded 
angrily  against  the  gate-top.  There  were  modern  bul- 
lets, old  iron  shot,  and  two  arrows — a  strange  assortment. 
Somehow  those  quivering  arrows,  shot  from  over  the 
immense  pink  walls,  and  attempting  to  vent  their  old- 
fashioned  wrath  on  the  insolent  invaders  who  had  pene- 
trated where  never  before  an  enemy's  foot  had  trod, 
made  us  all  stare  and  remain  amazed.  It  seemed  so 
curious  and  impossible — so  out  of  date.  Then  one  of 
the  Americans  ran  into  a  guard-house,  bringing  out  with 
him  a  huge  Manchu  bow,  which  he  had  secreted  there  as 
his  plunder.    He  plucked  with  difficulty  the  arrows  out 


THE   PALACE  319 

of  the  woodwork  in  which  they  had  been  plunged,  and 
with  an  immense  twanging  of  catgut  sent  them  high  into 
the  air,  until  they  were  suddenly  lost  to  our  sight  in  the 
far  beyond.  An  answer  was  not  long  in  coming.  In  less 
than  half  a  minute  a  crackle  of  firearms  broke  harshly 
on  the  air,  and  a  fresh  covey  of  bullets  whistled  high 
overhead.  The  enemy  was  plainly  still  on  the  alert  in- 
side the  last  enclosures,  where  no  one  might  penetrate. 
What  a  pity  it  had  been  stopped.  .   .    . 

I  rode  off,  bearing  away  some  flags  and  swords,  and, 
making  due  east,  at  last  reached  some  broad  avenues 
near  the  Eastern  Gates  of  this  Forbidden  City.  .  .  .  Fresh 
masses  of  moving  men  now  appeared.  The  main  body 
of  French  infantry  I  had  seen  a  couple  of  hours  before 
were  being  marched  in  here,  while  smaller  bodies  were 
tramping  off  to  the  north,  and  sappers  were  blowing 
down  walls  to  clear  their  way.  As  I  ambled  along,  seek- 
ing a  way  out,  a  couple  of  officers  galloped  up  to  me,  and, 
touching  their  helmets,  begged  me  in  the  name  of  good- 
ness to  tell  them  what  was  being  done.  What  were  the 
general  orders,  they  wanted  to  know.  I  explained  to 
them  that  nobody  knew  anything;  that  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  the  Americans  had  stopped  attacking  for  good;  that 
the  Indian  troops  were  already  marching  out  into  the 
Chinese  city;  and  that  nothing  more  was  to  be  done,  as 
the  other  columns  had  been  completely  lost  touch  with. 

"Ton  jours  cette  confusion,  ton  jours  pas  d'ordres"  the 
French  officers  angrily  commented,  and  in  a  few  words 
they  told  me  rapidly  how  from  the  very  start  at  Tientsin 
it  had  been  like  this,  each  column  racing  against  the 
others,  while  they  openly  pretended  to  co-operate;  with 
every  one  jealous  and  discontented.  Where  were  the 
Russians,  the  Italians,  and  the  Germans?     I  answered 


320         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

that  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea,  and  that  nobody  knew, 
or  appeared  to  care  at  all.  I  personally  was  going  on; 
I  had  had  enough  of  it.  .    .    . 

To  my  surprise,  as  I  turned  to  go,  I  found  that  the  men 
of  the  Infanterie  Coloniale,  in  their  dirty-blue  suits,  had 
pushed  up  as  close  as  possible  to  overhear  what  was 
being  said,  and  now  surrounded  us.  One  private  indeed 
boldly  asked  the  officers  whether  they  were  going  to  be 
able  to  enter  the  Palace  at  once;  and  when  he  got  an 
angry  negative,  he  and  his  comrades  took  to  such  curs- 
ing and  swearing,  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  this  was 
a  disciplined  army.  The  men  wanted  to  know  why  they 
had  been  dragged  forward  like  animals  in  this  burning 
heat  and  stifling  dust,  day  after  day,  until  they  could 
walk  no  longer,  if  they  were  to  have  no  reward — if  there 
was  to  be  nothing  to  take  in  this  cursed  country.  In  the 
hot  air  the  sullen  complaints  of  these  sweating  men  rang 
out  brutally.  They  wanted  to  loot;  to  break  through 
all  locked  doors  and  work  their  wills  on  everything. 
Otherwise,  why  had  they  been  brought?  These  men 
knew  the  history  of  i860. 

I  turned  in  disgust,  and  went  slowly  back  the  way  I 
had  come,  only  to  find  all  unchanged.  .  .  .  Everything 
had  obviously  been  stopped  by  explicit  orders;  there  was 
no  doubt  about  that  now;  diplomacy,  afraid  to  allow 
any  one  to  enter  the  inner  Palaces  for  fear  of  what 
would  follow,  and  how  much  one  Power  might  triumph 
over  another,  had  called  an  absolute  halt.  But  no  one 
was  taking  any  chances,  or  placing  too  much  confidence 
in  the  assurances  of  the  dear  Allies.  That  was  plain ! 
For,  even  as  I  had  almost  finished  trotting  up  to  the 
Dynastic  Gate,  I  came  on  a  large  body  of  Italian  sailors, 
who  had  evidently  just  entered  Peking,  and  who,  march- 


THE   PALACE  321 

ing  with  the  quick  step  of  the  Bersaglieri,  were  being  led 

by  C ,  the  lank  Secretary  of  Legation,  right  up  to 

the  last  line  of  gates.    They  were  in  an  enormous  hurry, 

and  looked  about  them  with  eager  eyes.     C and 

some  others  called  out  to  me  as  I  passed,  and  wanted  to 
know  whether  it  was  true  that  the  Americans  and  the 
French  had  already  got  in,  and  had  sacked  half  the 
place,  and  whether  fire  had  been  set  to  the  buildings.  I 
answered  with  no  compunction  that  it  appeared  to  be  so, 
and  that  the  Russians  and  the  Japanese  had  burst  in  also 
through  the  north,  and  had  actually  fired  on  the  others 
coming  from  the  south,  thinking  they  were  Manchu 
soldiery.  ...  I  told  them  that  they  were  too  late;  that 
every  point  of  importance  had  already  been  seized.  That 
set  them  moving  faster  than  ever.  It  was  truly  comical 
and  ridiculous.  Beyond  this  there  were  more  troops  of 
other  nationalities  that  had  just  arrived,  and  were  now 
looking  about  them  in  bewilderment.  No  wonder. 
With  no  orders  and  no  maps,  and  surrounded  by  these 
immense  ruins,  and  still  more  immense  squares,  they 
could  not  understand  it  at  all.    What  confusion  ! 

As  I  paused,  debating  what  I  should  do,  once  again 
something  else  speedily  attracted  my  attention.  This 
time  big  groups  of  American  soldiery,  whom  I  had  not 
observed  before,  were  gathering  like  swarms  of  flies  at 
the  door  of  one  of  the  Chinese  guard-houses,  which  line 
the  enclosing  walls  of  the  Palace.  They  were  evidently 
much  excited  by  some  discovery.  Wishing  to  learn  what 
it  was,  I  dismounted  and  pushed  in.  Grovelling  on  the 
ground  lay  an  elderly  Chinese,  whose  peculiar  aspect  and 
general  demeanour  made  it  clear  what  he  was.  He  was 
a  Palace  eunuch,  left  here  by  some  strange  luck.  The 
man  was  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear,  and,  pointing  into  the 


322         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

guard-house  behind  him,  he  was  beseeching  the  soldiery 
with  words  and  gestures  not  to  treat  him  as  those  in- 
side had  been  handled.  Through  the  open  door  I  could 
see  a  confused  mass  of  dead  bodies — men  who  had  been 
bayonetted  to  death  in  the  early  morning — and  from  a 
rafter  hung  a  miserable  wretch,  who  had  destroyed  him- 
self in  his  agony  to  escape  the  terror  of  cold  steel.  As 
the  details  became  clear,  the  scene  was  hideous.  Never, 
indeed,  shall  I  forget  that  horrid  little  vignette  of  war — 
those  dozens  upon  dozens  of  curious  soldier  faces 
framed  in  slouch  hats  only  half  understanding;  the  im- 
ploring eunuch  on  the  ground,  the  huddled  mass  of 
slaughtered  men  swimming  in  their  blood  in  the  shadow 
behind;  that  thick  smell  of  murder  and  sudden  death 
rising  and  stinking  in  the  hot  air;  and  the  last  cruel  note 
of  that  Chinese  figure,  with  a  shriek  of  agony  and  fear 
petrified  on  the  features,  swinging  in  long,  loose  clothes 
from  the  rafter  above.  In  the  bright  sunlight  and  the 
sudden  silence  which  had  come  over  everythmg,  there 
was  a  peculiar  menace  in  all  this  which  chilled  one.  .  .  . 
Perhaps  the  eunuch  had  divined  from  my  different  dress 
that  he  would  be  better  understood  by  me  than  by  these 
rough  crowds  of  rank  and  file  who  crushed  him  in ;  for, 
as  I  gazed,  he  had  thrown  himself  at  my  feet,  with  mut- 
tered words  and  a  constant  begging  and  imploring.  I 
noticed  then  that  the  unfortunate  man  could  not  walk, 
could  only  drag  himself  like  a  beaten  dog.  The  reason 
soon  transpired :  both  his  legs  had  been  broken  by  some 
mad  jump  which  he  must  have  essayed  in  his  agony  to 
escape.  I  quieted  the  man's  fears  as  best  I  could,  and, 
tearing  a  sheet  from  a  note-book,  wrote  a  description  of 
him,  so  that  a  field  hospital  would  dress  him.  Then, 
anxious  to  learn  something  concrete  with  this  vapour  of 


THE   PALACE  323 

haziness  and  confusion  blinding  us  all,  I  began  ques- 
tioning him  quickly  about  the  Palace,  the  numbers  of 
soldiery  within,  the  strength  of  the  inner  enclosures,  and 
the  residences  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress  Dow- 
ager. The  man  answered  me  willingly  enough,  but 
suddenly  said  it  was  all  no  use,  that  we  were  too  late. 
The  Emperor,  the  Empress  Dowager,  indeed,  the  whole 
Court,  had  disappeared — had  fled,  was  gone.  .   .   . 

Gone ! 

On  my  life,  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  ears.  After  all 
these  weeks  of  confusion  and  plotting,  had  the  Empress 
Dowager  and  her  whole  Court  fled  at  the  very  last 
moment,  and,  by  so  doing,  escaped  all  possibility  of  ven- 
geance ?  Was  it  really  so  ?  One  might  have  known  that 
this  loose-jointed  relief  expedition  could  accomplish 
nothing,  would  do  everything  wrong;  and  still  we  were 
acting  as  if  everything  was  in  our  hands.  Then,  sud- 
denly, I  fined  down  my  questions,  and  imperatively 
asked  when  the  Court  had  fled ;  exactly  at  what  hour  and 
in  what  direction. 

At  first  I  could  get  no  reliable  answer,  but,  pushing  my 
questions  and  assuming  a  threatening  attitude,  the  shat- 
tered eunuch  at  length  collapsed,  and  whiningly  in- 
formed me  that  the  flight  had  taken  place  at  nine  o'clock 
exactly  the  previous  night,  and  had  been  carried  out  by 
way  of  the  Northern  Gates  of  the  city.  They  had  left 
five  hours  after  the  relief  had  come  in!  I  calculated 
quickly.  That  meant  twenty  hours'  start  at  four  miles 
an  hour — for  they  would  travel  frantically  night  and 
day — eighty  miles!  It  was  hopeless;  they  were  safe 
through  the  first  mountain-passes,  and  if  they  had 
soldiery  with  them,  as  was  more  than  certain,  these  had 
most  certainly  been  dropped  at  the  formidable  barriers 


324         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

which  nature  has  interposed  just  forty  miles  beyond  Pe- 
king. The  mountain-passes  would  protect  them.  There 
could  be  no  vengeance  exacted;  no  retribution  could 
overtake  the  real  authors  of  this  debacle.  Nothing.  It 
was  a  strange  end.   .    .    . 

Disconsolately  I  turned  and  rode  back  into  the  Lega- 
tion lines,  feeling  as  if  an  immense  misfortune  had  come. 
Here  I  met  finally  some  Japanese  cavalry  and  some  Cos- 
sacks. After  being  actually  in  Peking  twenty-four 
hours,  they  had  at  length  formed  junction  with  their 
Legations.  The  cavalrymen  were  trotting  up  and  down, 
and  trying  to  discover  their  own  people.  Neither  did 
they  understand  it  all. 

I  communicated  the  news  I  had  learned  speedily 
enough  to  all  people  of  importance  whom  I  could  find, 
told  it  to  them  all  frantically;  but  it  aroused  no  interest, 
even  hardly  any  comment.  Once  or  twice  there  was  a 
start  of  surprise,  and  then  the  old  attitude  of  indiffer- 
ence. A  species  of  torpor  seems  to  have  come  over  every 
one  as  a  crushing  anti-climax  after  the  various  climaxes 
of  the  terrible  weeks.     No  one  cares,  excepting  that  the 

siege  is  finished.     C ,  of  the  British  Legation,  who 

has  practically  directed  its  policy  for  years  (indeed,  ever 
since  it  has  been  in  the  present  hands) ,  told  me  that  when 
the  British  commander  had  come  in,  he  had  simply 
placed  himself  at  the  disposal  of  the  Legation,  and  had 
said  that  his  orders  were  concerned  only  with  the  relief. 
He  was  not  to  attempt  anything  else;  to  do  nothing 
more,  absolutely  nothing.  .    .    . 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  at  a  Ministerial  meeting,  con- 
vened in  haste,  the  Ministers  decided  that  as  they  did  not 
know  what  was  going  to  happen  to  them  or  what  policy 
their  governments  proposed  to  adopt,  in  the  absence  of 


THE   PALACE  325 

instructions  they  could  take  no  steps  about  anything.  Of 
course,  every  one  of  importance  will  be  transferred  else- 
where, and  probably  be  sent  to  South  America,  or  the 
Balkan  States,  or  possibly  Athens.  The  confirmation  of 
the  news  that  the  Empress  Dowager  and  the  Court  had 
fled  concerned  them  less  than  the  dread  possibilities 
which  the  field  telegraphs  bring.  The  wires  have 
already  been  stretched  into  Peking,  and  messages  would 
have  to  come  through  soon.   .    .    . 

That  evening,  as  dusk  fell,  and  I  was  idly  watching 
some  English  sappers  blowing  an  entrance  from  the 
canal  street  through  the  pink  Palace  walls,  so  that  a  pri- 
vate right  of  way  into  this  precious  area  could  be  had 
right  where  the  twin-cannon  were  fired  at  us  for  so  many 
weeks,  a  sound  of  a  rude  French  song  being  chanted 
made  me  turn  round.  I  saw  then  that  it  was  a  soldier 
of  the  Infanterie  Coloniale  in  his  faded  blue  suit  of 
Nankeen,  staggering  along  with  his  rifle  slung  across 
his  back  and  a  big  gunny-sack  on  his  shoulder.  He 
approached,  singing  lustily  in  a  drunken  sort  of  way, 
and  reeling  more  and  more,  until,  as  he  tried  to 
step  over  the  ruins  of  a  brick  barricade,  he  at  last 
tripped  and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  The  English 
sappers  watched  him  curiously  for  a  few  moments  as 
he  lay  moving  drunkenly  on  the  ground,  unable  to  rise, 
but  no  one  offered  to  help  him,  or  even  stepped  forward, 
until  one  soldier,  who  had  been  looking  fixedly  at  some- 
thing on  the  ground,  said  suddenly  to  his  mates  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  "Silver!  Silver!"  He  spoke  in  an 
extraordinary  way. 

I  stepped  forward  at  these  words  to  see.  It  was  true. 
The  sack  had  been  split  open  by  the  fall,  and  on  the 
ground  now  scattered  about  lay  big  half-moons  of  silver 


326         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

— syce e,  as  it  is  called.  The  sappers  took  a  cautious  look 
around,  saw  that  all  was  quiet  and  only  myself  there; 
and  then  the  six  of  them,  seized  with  the  same  idea, 
went  quietly  forward  and  plundered  the  fallen  French- 
man of  his  loot  as  he  lay.  Each  man  stuffed  as  many 
of  those  lumps  as  he  could  carry  into  his  shirt  or  tunic. 
Then  they  helped  the  fallen  drunkard  to  his  feet, 
handed  him  the  fraction  of  his  treasure  which  remained, 
and  pushed  him  roughly  away.  The  last  I  noticed  of 
this  curious  scene  was  this  marauder  staggering  into  the 
night,  and  calling  faintly  at  intervals,  as  he  realised  his 
loss,  "Sacres  volearsf  Sacres  voleurs  anglais/"  Then 
I  made  off  too.  It  was  the  first  open  looting  I  had  seen. 
I  shall  always  remember  absolutely  how  curiously  it  im- 
pressed me.    It  seemed  very  strange. 


II 

THE    SACK 

1 8th  August,    1900. 


After  these  events  and  the  curious  entry  of  our  re- 
lieving troops,  nothing  came  as  a  surprise  to  me.  I  can 
still  remember  as  if  it  had  only  occurred  ten  seconds  ago 
how,  after  witnessing  those  English  sappers  calmly  strip 
that  drunken  French  marauder  of  his  gains,  I  came  back 
into  the  broken  Legation  Street  to  find  that  a  whole  com- 
pany of  savage-looking  Indian  troops — Baluchis  they 
were — had  found  their  way  in  the  dark  into  a  compound 
filled  with  women-converts  who  had  gone  through  the 
siege  with  us,  and  that  these  black  soldiery  were  en- 
gaged, amidst  cries  and  protests,  in  plucking  from  their 
victims'  very  heads  any  small  silver  hair-pins  and  orna- 
ments which  the  women  possessed.  Trying  to  shield 
them  as  best  she  could  was  a  lady  missionary.  She 
wielded  at  intervals  a  thick  stick,  and  tried  to  beat  the 
marauders  away.  But  these  rough  Indian  soldiers,  im- 
mense fellows,  with  great  heads  of  hair  which  escaped 
beneath  their  turbans,  merely  laughed,  and  carelessly 
warding  off  this  rain  of  impotent  blows,  went  calmly  on 
with  their  trifling  plundering.  Some  also  tried  to  caress 
the  women  and  drag  them  away.  .  .  .  Then  the  lady 
missionary  began  to  weep  in  a  quiet  and  hopeless  way, 
because  she  was  really  courageous  and  only  entirely  over- 
strung.   At  this  a  curious  spasm  of  rage  suddenly  seized 


328  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

me,  and  taking  out  my  revolver,  I  pushed  it  into  one 
fellow's  face,  and  told  him  in  plain  English,  which  he 
did  not  understand,  that  if  he  did  not  disgorge  I  would 
blow  out  his  brains  on  the  spot.  I  remember  I  pushed 
my  short  barrel  right  into  his  face,  and  held  it  there 
grimly,  with  my  finger  on  the  trigger.  That  at  least  he 
understood.  There  was  a  moment  of  suspense,  during 
which  I  had  ample  time  to  realise  that  I  would  be  bayon- 
etted  and  shot  to  pieces  by  the  others  if  I  carried  out 
my  threat.  It  was  ugly;  I  did  not  like  it.  At  the  last 
moment,  fortunately,  my  fellow  relented,  and  throwing 
sullenly  what  he  had  taken  to  the  ground,  he  shouldered 
his  rifle  and  left  the  place.  The  others  followed  with 
mutterings  and  grumbles,  and  the  women  being  now 
safe,  began  barricading  the  entrance  of  their  house 
against  other  marauders.  They  were  green-white  with 
fear.  They  feared  these  Indian  troops.  .  .  . 
That  same  night,  very  late,  a  transport  corps,  com- 
posed of  Japanese  coolies,  in  figured  blue  coats,  belong- 
ing to  some  British  regiment,  came  in  hauling  a 
multitude  of  little  carts;  and  within  a  few  minutes  these 
men  were  offering  for  sale  hundreds  of  rolls  of  splendid 
silks,  which  they  had  gathered  on  their  way  through  the 
city.  You  could  get  them  for  nothing.  Some  one  who 
had  some  gold  in  his  pocket  got  an  enormous  mass  for  a 
hundred  francs.  The  next  day  he  was  offered  ten  times 
the  amount  he  had  paid.  In  the  dark  he  had  purchased 
priceless  fabrics  from  the  Hangchow  looms,  which  fetch 
anything  in  Europe.  Great  quantities  of  things  were 
offered  for  sale  after  that  as  quickly  as  they  could  be 
dragged  from  haversacks  and  knapsacks.  Everybody 
had  things  for  sale.  We  heard  then  that  everything  had 
been  looted  by  the  troops  from  the  sea  right  up  to 


THE    SACK  329 

Peking;  that  all  the  men  had  got  badly  out  of  hand  in 
the  Tientsin  native  city,  which  had  been  picked  as  clean 
as  a  bone;  and  that  hundreds  of  terrible  outrages  had 
come  to  light.  Every  village  on  the  line  of  march  from 
Tientsin  had  been  treated  in  the  same  way.  Perhaps 
it  was  because  there  had  been  so  little  fighting  that  there 
had  been  so  much  looting. 

The  very  next  morning  a  decision  was  arrived  at  to 
send  away  all  non-combatants  in  the  Legation  lines  as 
quickly  as  possible  from  such  scenes — to  let  them  breathe 
an  air  uncontaminated  by  such  ruin  and  devastation  and 
rotting  corpses — to  escape  from  this  cursed  bondage  of 
brick  lines.  There  would  be  a  caravan  formed  down  to 
Tungchow,  which  is  fifteen  miles  away,  and  then  river 
transport.  To  provide  conveyances  for  these  fifteen 
miles  of  road,  people  would  have  to  sally  forth  and  help 
themselves;  near  the  Legations  there  was  absolutely 
nothing  left.  We  must  hustle  for  ourselves.  .  .  .  The 
same  men  who  have  done  all  the  work  would  have  to 
do  this. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  renewed  sense  of  freedom  when 
I  went  out  the  next  morning  with  my  men  and  some 
others  I  picked  up,  this  time  boldly  striking  into  the 
rich  quarter  in  the  eastern  suburbs  of  the  Tartar  city 
and  leaving  the  garrisoned  area  far  behind.  It  was 
something  to  ride  out  without  having  to  take  cover 
at  every  turning.  .  .  .  The  first  part  of  our  route 
was  the  same  as  that  of  my  scouting  expedition  made  so 
few  days  before.  But  this  time  we  went  forward  so 
quickly  to  the  main  streets  beyond  the  white  ruins  of  the 
Austrian  Legation  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  we 
should  have  wasted  so  much  time  covering  the  ground 
before.     That  shows  what  danger  means.     I  alone  was 


330         INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

mounted,  riding  the  old  pony  I  had  commandeered  the 
day  before;  my  men  were  on  foot  and  ran  pantingly 
alongside.    We  were  so  keen ! 

For  half  a  mile  or  so  we  met  occasional  detachments 
of  European  troops,  an  odd  enough  pot-pourri  of  armed 
men  such  as  few  people  ever  witness.  They  made  a 
curious  picture,  did  this  soldiery  in  the  deserted  streets, 
for  every  detachment  was  loaded  with  pickings  from 
Chinese  houses,  and  some  German  mounted  infantry,  in 
addition  to  the  great  bundles  strapped  to  their  saddles, 
were  driving  in  front  of  them  a  mixed  herd  of  cattle, 
sheep  and  extra  ponies  which  they  had  collected  on  the 
way.  The  men  were  in  excellent  humour,  and  jested 
and  cursed  as  they  hastened  along,  and  in  a  thick  cloud 
of  dust  raised  by  all  these  hoofs  they  finally  disappeared 
round  a  ccrner.  It  was  only  when  they  were  gone  that  I 
realised  how  silent  and  deserted  the  streets  had  become. 
Not  a  soul  afoot,  not  a  door  ajar,  not  a  dog — nothing. 
It  might  have  been  a  city  of  the  dead.  After  all  the 
roar  of  rifle  and  cannon  which  had  dulled  the  hearing  of 
one's  ears  for  so  many  days  there  was  something  awe- 
some, unearthly  and  disconcerting  in  this  terrified  silence. 
What  had  happened  to  all  the  inhabitants? 

I  had  ridden  forward  slowly  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
or  so,  glancing  keenly  at  the  barred  entrances  which 
frowned  on  the  great  street,  when  suddenly  I  missed  my 
men.  My  pony  had  carried  me  along  the  raised  high- 
way— the  riding  and  driving  road,  which  is  separated 
from  the  sidewalks  by  huge  open  drains.  My  men  had 
been  across  these  drains,  keeping  close  to  the  houses  so 
that  they  could  soon  discover  some  sign  of  life.  Then 
they  had  disappeared.    That  is  all  I  could  remember. 

I  rode  back,  rather  alarmed  and  shouting  lustily.     My 


THE    SACK  331 

voice  raised  echoes  in  the  deserted  thoroughfare,  which 
brought  vague  flickers  of  faces  to  unexpected  chinks  and 
cracks  in  the  doors,  telling  me  that  this  desert  of  a  city- 
was  really  inhabited  by  a  race  made  panic-stricken 
prisoners  in  their  own  houses  by  the  sudden  entry  of 
avenging  European  troops.  There  were  really  hosts  of 
people  watching  and  listening  in  fear,  and  ready  to  flee 
over  back  walls  as  soon  as  any  danger  became  evident. 
That  explained  to  me  a  great  deal.  I  began  to  under- 
stand. Then  suddenly,  as  I  looked,  there  were  several 
rifle  shots,  a  scuffle  and  some  shouting,  and  as  I  galloped 
back  in  a  sweat  of  apprehension  I  saw  one  of  my  men 
emerge  from  the  huge  porte-cochere  of  a  native  inn 
mounted  on  a  black  mule.  My  men  were  coolly  at  work. 
They  were  providing  themselves  with  a  necessary  con- 
venience for  moving  about  freely  over  the  immense 
distances.  In  the  courtyard  of  the  inn  two  dead  men  lay, 
one  with  his  head  half  blown  off,  the  second  with  a 
gaping  wound  in  his  chest.  My  remaining  servants 
were  harnessing  mules  to  carts,  and  each,  in  addition, 
had  a  pony,  ready  saddled  to  receive  him,  tied  to  an  iron 
ring  in  the  wall.  I  angrily  questioned  them  about  the 
shots,  and  pointed  to  the  ghastly  remains  on  the  ground; 
but  they,  nothing  abashed,  as  angrily  answered  me,  say- 
ing that  the  men  had  resisted  and  had  to  be  killed. 
Then,  as  I  was  not  satisfied,  and  continued  muttering  at 
them  and  fiercely  threatening  punishment,  one  of  them 
went  to  the  door  of  a  gate-house,  and  flinging  it  back, 
bade  me  look  in.  That  was  a  sight!  It  was  full  of 
great  masses  of  arms  and  all  sorts  of  soldiers'  and  Box- 
ers' clothing;  and  tied  up  in  bundles  of  blue  cloth  were 
stacks  of  booty,  consisting  of  furs  and  silks,  all  made 
ready  to  be  carried  away.     This  was  evidently  one  of 


332         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

the  many  district  headquarters  which  the  Boxers  had 
established  everywhere.  My  men  had  known  it,  because 
these  things  become  speedily  known  to  natives.  They 
had  acted.  After  all,  this  was  a  vengeance  which  was 
overtaking  everybody.     What  could  I  do?  .    .    . 

I  said  nothing  then,  and  somewhat  gloomily  watched 
them  proceed.  With  utmost  coolness  they  finished  har- 
nessing the  carts;  drove  them  with  curses  to  a  point  near 
the  gate-house,  and  silently  loaded  all  those  bundles  of 
booty  into  them,  strapping  the  swords  and  rifles  on  in 
stacks  behind.  It  was  evidently  to  be  a  clean  sweep,  with 
nothing  left.  Then,  when  they  had  made  everything 
ready,  one  of  them  disappeared  for  a  short  time  into  a 
back  courtyard,  and  after  some  fresh  scuffling,  reap- 
peared, driving  in  front  of  him  three  men  in  torn  cloth- 
ing and  with  dishevelled  hair,  who  had  been  hiding  all 
the  while,  and  were  trembling  like  aspen  leaves  now  that 
they  had  been  caught.  My  men,  without  undue  explana- 
tions, told  them  that  they  had  to  drive,  one  to  each  cart, 
and  that  if  one  tried  to  escape  all  would  be  shot  down. 
With  protestations,  the  captives  swore  that  they  would 
obey;  only  let  them  escape  with  their  lives;  they  were  in- 
nocent. .  .  .  Then  in  a  body  we  sallied  forth,  this  time 
a  fully-equipped  and  well-mounted  body  of  marauders. 
It  was  a  fate  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  escape — 
my  men  had  such  decision  left  when  every  person  in 
authority  was  already  drifting.  .    .    . 

Fitted  out  in  this  wise,  we  now  rattled  along  the  streets 
with  faster  speed,  and  the  clanking  cart-wheels,  awaking 
louder  and  louder  echoes  which  sounded  curiously  indis- 
creet in  these  deserted  streets,  made  heads  bob  from 
doorways  and  windows  with  greater  and  greater  fre- 
quency.    Down  in  the  side  alleys,  now  that  we  were  a 


THE    SACK  383 

mile  or  two  away  from  our  lines,  people  might  be  even 
seen  standing  in  frightened  groups,  as  if  debating  what 
was  going  to  happen;  these  melted  silently  away  as 
soon  as  we  were  spied.  But  rinding  that  they  were 
disregarded,  and  that  no  rifles  cracked  off  at  them  as 
they  half  expected,  forthwith  the  groups  formed  again, 
and  men  even  came  out  into  the  main  street  and  fol- 
lowed us  a  little  way,  calling  half-heartedly  to  the 
drivers  to  know  if  there  was  any  news.  .  .  .  The  terrible 
quiet  which  had  spread  over  the  city  after  the  Allies  had 
burst  in  from  two  or  three  quarters  seemed  indeed  inex- 
plicable; such  troops  as  had  passed  had  gone  hurriedly 
westwards  towards  the  Palace.  This  quarter  could 
scarcely  have  been  touched.  .   .   . 

Our  little  cavalcade  was  clattering  along  midst  these 
strange  surroundings,  when  my  attention  was  attracted 
by  the  similarity  of  the  occupation  which  now  appeared 
to  be  engaging  numbers  of  people  on  the  side  streets. 
The  occupation  was  plainly  a  doubtful  one,  since  as  soon 
as  we  were  seen  every  one  fled  indoors.  All  had  been 
standing  scraping  away  at  the  door-posts  with  any  instru- 
ments which  came  handy;  and  one  could  hear  this 
scratching  and  screeching  distinctly  in  the  distance  as 
one  approached.  It  was  extraordinary.  Determined 
to  solve  this  new  mystery,  on  an  inspiration  I  suddenly 
drove  my  old  pony  full  tilt  up  an  alleyway  before  the 
rest  of  my  men  had  come  in  view,  and,  dashing  quickly 
forward,  secured  one  old  man  before  he  could  escape. 
Once  again  I  understood:  all  these  people  had  been 
scraping  off  little  diamond-shaped  pieces  of  red  paper 
pasted  on  their  door-posts;  and  on  these  papers  were 
written  a  number  of  characters,  which  proclaimed  the 
adherence  of  all  the  inmates  to  the  tenets  of  the  Boxers. 


334         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM  PEKING 

In  their  few  weeks'  reign,  this  Chinese  sansculottism  had 
succeeded  in  imposing  its  will  on  all.  Every  one  was  im- 
plicated; the  whole  city  had  been  in  their  hands;  it  had 
been  an  enormous  plot.  .   .   . 

Inside  the  house  I  had  singled  out,  we  found  only  old 
women  and  young  boys — the  rest  had  all  fled.  Spread 
on  the  ground  were  pieces  of  white  cloth  on  which  flags 
were  being  rudely  fashioned — Japanese,  English,  French 
and  some  others.  They  were  changing  their  colours,  all 
these  people,  as  fast  as  they  could — that  is  what  they 
were  doing;  and  farther  on,  as  we  came  to  more  remote 
quarters,  we  found  these  protecting  insignia  already  fly- 
ing boldly  from  every  house.  Everybody  wished  to  be 
friends.  But  my  men  exhorted  me  to  proceed  quickly 
and  to  escape  from  these  districts,  which,  they  alleged, 
were  still  full  of  Boxers  and  disbanded  soldiery;  and 
yielding  to  their  entreaties,  we  again  dashed  onwards 
quicker  and  quicker.  For  half  an  hour  and  more  we  had, 
indeed,  lost  sight  of  every  friendly  face. 

The  succession  of  streets  we  passed  was  endless.  There 
were  nothing  but  these  deserted  main  thoroughfares,  and 
the  scuttling  people  on  the  side  alleys,  and  in  absolute 
silence  we  reached  an  immense  street  running  due  north 
and  south.  To  my  surprise,  although  everything  was 
now  quite  quiet,  dead  Chinese  soldiers  lay  around  here 
in  some  numbers.  There  were  both  infantry  and  cavalry 
flung  headlong  on  the  ground  as  they  had  fled.  One 
big  fellow,  carrying  a  banner,  had  been  toppled  over, 
pony  and  all,  as  he  rode  away,  and  now  lay  in  pictur- 
esque confusion,  half  thrown  down  the  steep  slope  of 
the  raised  driving  road,  with  his  tragedy  painted  clearly 
as  a  picture.  In  the  bright  sunshine,  with  all  absolutely 
quiet  and  peaceful  around,   it  seemed  impossible  that 


THE    SACK  S3 5 

these  men  should  have  met  with  a  violent  death  such  a 
short  while  ago  amid  a  roar  of  sound.  It  was  funny, 
curious,  inexplicable.  .  .  .  For  my  men,  however,  there 
were  no  such  thoughts;  they  climbed  off  their  ponies, 
and,  whipping  out  knives  or  bayonets,  they  slit  the 
bandoliers  and  pouches  from  every  dead  soldier  and 
threw  them  into  the  carts.  They  had  become  in  this 
short  time  good  campaigners;  you  can  never  have  too 
much  ammunition. 

The  big  Shantung  recruit,  whom  I  had  come  across  so 
oddly  only  three  days  before,  was  now  once  again  plainly 
excited  and  smelled  quarry.  I  remembered,  then,  that 
there  was  nothing  very  strange  in  the  decisive  actions  of 
all  my  followers;  they  were  being  led  by  this  man  and 
told  exactly  what  to  do.  He  had,  after  all,  been  outside 
all  the  time,  and  knew  what  had  been  going  on  and 
where  now  to  strike  hard !  Quickly,  without  speaking  a 
word,  he  pushed  ahead,  and  arriving  at  the  big  gates  of 
another  inn,  loudly  called  on  some  one  inside  to  open. 
He  could  not  have  got  any  very  satisfactory  answer,  for 
the  next  thing  I  saw  was  that  he  had  sprung  like  light- 
ning from  his  stolen  pony,  had  thrown  his  rifle  to  the 
ground,  and  was  attacking  a  latticed  window  with  an  old 
bayonet  he  had  been  carrying  in  his  hand.  With  half 
a  dozen  furious  blows  he  sent  the  woodwork  into  splin- 
ters, and,  springing  up  with  a  lithe,  tiger-like  jump,  he 
clambered  through  the  gap,  big  man  as  he  was,  with 
surprising  agility.  Then  there  was  a  dead  silence  for  a 
few  seconds  and  we  waited  in  suspense.  But  presently 
oaths  and  protests  came  from  far  back  and  drew  nearer 
and  nearer,  until  I  knew  that  the  some  one  who  had 
refused  to  answer  had  been  duly  secured.  The  gates 
themselves  were  finally  flung  open,  and  I  saw  that  an 


336         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

oldish  man  of  immense  stature  had  been  driven  to  do 
this  work — a  man  who,  so  far  from  being  afraid,  was 
only  held  in  check  by  a  loaded  revolver  being  kept 
steadily  against  his  back.  The  Shantung  man's  face  had 
become  devilish  with  rage,  and  I  could  see  that  he  was 
slowly  working  himself  up  into  that  Chinese  frenzy 
which  is  such  madness  and  bodes  no  good  to  any  one. 
.1  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  this  scene. 

Our  captured  carts  were  driven  in  and  the  gates 
securely  shut;  and  then,  driving  his  captive  still  in  front 
of  him,  my  man  led  us,  with  a  rapidity  which  showed 
that  he  knew  every  inch  of  his  ground,  to  a  big  building 
at  the  side.  Then  it  was  my  turn  to  understand  and  to 
stare.  Within  the  building  a  big  altar  had  been  clumsily 
made  of  wooden  boards  and  draped  with  blood-red 
cloth;  and  lining  the  wall  behind  it  was  a  row  of  hide- 
ously-painted wooden  Buddhas.  There  were  sticks  of 
incense,  too,  with  inscriptions  written  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  those  we  had  seen  being  scraped  so  feverishly 
from  the  door-posts  a  few  minutes  ago.  Red  sashes 
and  rusty  swords  lay  on  the  ground  also.  Here  there 
could  be  absolutely  no  mistake;  it  was  a  headquarters 
of  that  evil  cult  which  had  brought  such  ruin  and  de- 
struction in  its  train.  The  Boxers  had  been  in  full  force 
here. 

The  Shantung  man,  for  reasons  I  could  not  yet  un- 
ravel and  did  not  care  to  learn,  had  become  absolutely 
livid  with  rage  now,  and  the  others,  who  were  all  Catho- 
lics, shared  his  fury.  They  said  that  here  converts  had 
been  tortured  to  death — killed  by  being  slit  into  small 
pieces  and  then  burned.  Everybody  knew  it.  With 
spasmodic  gestures  they  called  on  the  captive  to  fling  to 
the  ground  the  whole  altar,  to  smash  his  idols  into  a  thou- 


THE    SACK  337 

sand  pieces,  to  destroy  everything.  But  the  man,  reso- 
lute even  in  captivity,  sullenly  refused.  Then,  with  a 
movement  of  uncontrollable  rage,  one  man  seized  a  long 
pole,  and  in  a  dozen  blows  had  broken  everything  to 
atoms.  Idols,  red  cloth,  incense  sticks,  bowls  of  sacri- 
ficial rice  and  swords  lay  in  a  shapeless  heap.  And  with 
ugly  kicks  my  men  ground  the  ruin  into  yet  smaller 
pieces.  Somehow  it  made  me  wince.  It  was  a  brutal 
sight;  to  treat  gods,  even  if  they  be  false,  in  this 
wise.  .   .    . 

As  I  looked  and  wondered,  scarcely  daring  to  interfere, 
the  Shantung  man  had  pushed  his  face,  after  the  native 
manner,  close  into  that  of  his  enemy  and  was  muttering 
taunts  at  him,  which  were  hissed  like  the  fury  of  a  snake 
in  anger.    This  could  not  last — my  man  was  carrying  it 
too  far.     It  was  so.     With  a  cry  his  victim  suddenly 
closed  on  him,   seized  him  insanely  by  the  throat  and 
hair,  tried  to  tear  him  to  the  ground.     I  remember  I  had 
just  a  vision  of  those  brown  wrestling  bodies  half-bared 
by   the   fury  of  their  clutches,    and   I   could  hear  the 
quickly  drawn  pants  which  came  at  a  supreme  moment, 
when  there  was  a  sharp  report,  which  sounded  a  little 
muffled,  a  piece  of  plaster  flew  out  of  the  wall  behind  the 
two,  and  some  biting  smoke  bit  one's  nostrils.     Before 
I  realised  what  had  been  done,  the  giant  Boxer  was  stag- 
gering back;  then  he  tottered  and  fell  on  his  knees,  talk- 
ing strangely  to  himself,  with  his  voice  sliding  up  and 
down  as  if  it  now  refused  control.     Some  blood  welled 
up  to  his  lips  and  trickled  out;  he  shook  a  bit,  and  then 
he  crashed  finally  down.    There  he  lay  among  the  ruins 
of  his  faith — dead,  stone-dead,  killed  outright.     The 
Shantung  man  stood  over  him  with  a  smoking  revolver 
in  his  hand.     I  remembered  then  that  he  had  never 


338         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

taken  his  hand  from  the  weapon.     He  had  been  waiting 
for  this — it  was  an  old  score,  properly  paid.  .   .   . 

I  had  had  enough,  however,  of  this  mode  of  settling  up 
under  cover  of  my  protection,  and  angrily  I  intimated 
that  if  there  was  any  more  shooting  I  should  draw  too, 
and  pistol  every  man.  I  was  proceeding  to  add  to  these 
remarks,  and  was  even  becoming  eloquent  as  my  right- 
eous feelings  welled  up,  when  a  thunder  of  blows  sud- 
denly resounded  on  the  outer  gates,  and  made  me  real- 
ise with  a  start  that  this  was  no  place  for  abstract  moral- 
ity. Strayed  so  far  from  safety,  we  had  taken  our  lives 
into  our  own  hands;  at  any  moment  we  might  have  to 
fight  once  more  desperately  against  superior  numbers. 
Perhaps  in  the  end  we  would  totter  over  in  the  same  way 
as  the  unfortunate  who  had  strayed  across  our  path.  .  .  . 
Indeed,  it  was  no  time  for  morality.  .   .   . 

The  thunder  on  the  gates  continued,  and  then  with  a 
crash  they  came  open  suddenly,  and  a  party  of  French 
soldiers,  with  fixed  bayonets  and  their  uniforms  in  great 
disorder,  rushed  in  on  us.  They  did  not  see  me  at  first, 
and,  charging  down  on  our  captured  carters,  merely 
yelled  violently  to  them,  "Rendez-vous!  Rendez-vous!" 
Before  we  could  move  or  disclose  ourselves,  they  had 
seized  some  of  the  carts  and  were  making  preparations 
to  drive  them  off  without  a  second's  delay.  But  then  I 
made  up  my  mind  in  a  flash,  too,  and  becoming  des- 
perate, I  threw  down  the  gauntlet.  The  contagion  had 
caught  me.  Running  at  them  with  my  drawn  revolver, 
I,  too,  shouted,  "Rendez-vous!  Rendez-vous!"  and 
with  my  men  following  me,  we  interposed  ourselves 
between  the  marauders  and  their  only  line  of  retreat. 
There  was  no  time  for  thinking  or  for  explanations; 
somebody  would  have  to  give  way  or  else  there  would 


THE    SACK  339 

be  shooting.  In  a  second,  a  fresh  desperate  situation 
had  arisen. 

The  marauders,  astonished  at  my  sudden  appearance 
and  the  manner  in  which  their  razzia  had  been  inter- 
rupted, stood  debating  in  loud  voices  what  they  should 
do,  and  calling  me  names.  Twice  they  turned  as  if  they 
would  shoot  me  down;  then  one  of  them  made  up  the 
minds  of  the  others  by  declaring  that  their  object  was 
not  to  fight,  but  to  pillage — these  few  carts  did  not  mat- 
ter. With  lowering  faces  they  speedily  withdrew,  curs- 
ing me  with  calm  insolence  as  they  reached  the  gates. 
Outside  we  saw  that  they  had  a  number  of  other  carts 
and  mules,  all  loaded  up  with  huge  bundles;  and  reeling 
round  these  captured  things  were  other  drunken  soldiers, 
whose  disordered  clothing  and  leering  faces  proclaimed 
that  they  had  given  themselves  solely  up  to  the  wildest 
orgies.    To-day  there  would  be  no  quarter.  .   .   . 

We  waited  until  the  clamour  of  these  men  had  died 
away  in  the  distance,  and  then,  with  a  strange  double 
grin,  the  big  Shantung  man  turned  silently  back  into  an 
inner  courtyard,  and  pointed  me  out  another  building. 
I  did  not  understand,  for  the  very  stables  were  empty 
and  deserted  here,  as  if  everything  had  been  already 
looted  or  carried  away  into  safety.  There  appeared  to 
be  not  a  cart,  not  a  piece  of  harness,  not  a  stick  of  furni- 
ture, nothing  left  at  all.  The  big  Shantung  man  still 
grinned,  however,  and  quickly  made  for  the  building 
he  had  pointed  out.  The  door  was  open,  as  if  there  was 
nothing  to  conceal,  and  only  enormous  bins  made  of 
bamboo  matting  half  blocked  the  entrance.  But  with  a 
few  rough  efforts  my  men  sent  these  soon  flying;  then 
there  was  a  mighty  stamping  and  neighing  of  alarm, 
and  as  I  looked  in  I  laughed  from  sheer  surprise.    The 


340         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

house  was  full  of  ponies,  mules,  and  even  donkeys,  which 
had  been  driven  in  and  tethered  together  tightly  behind 
barricades  of  tables  and  chairs.  Now  seeing  us,  they 
stood  there  all  eyes  and  ears,  and  with  prolonged  whin- 
nies and  gruntings  plainly  welcomed  this  diversion. 
With  glee  we  drove  them  out  and  counted  them  up — 
ten  more  animals ! 

It  was  with  disgust,  however,  that  I  remembered  that 
there  was  neither  harness  nor  carts;  but  to  my  surprise, 
now  that  the  animals  had  been  discovered,  my  men  were 
running  busily  around  searching  every  likely  hiding- 
place  of  the  huge  straggling  courtyards.  Like  rats,  they 
ran  into  every  corner,  turned  over  everything,  pulled  up 
loose  floorings,  and  presently  the  body  of  a  cart  was 
found  hidden  in  a  loft  in  the  most  cunning  way.  But  it 
was  only  the  body  of  a  cart;  there  were  no  wheels.  And 
yet  the  wheels  could  not  be  far  off.  Five  more  minutes' 
search  had  discovered  them  suspended  down  a  well,  un- 
der a  bucket,  which  itself  contained  a  mass  of  harness; 
and  then  in  every  impossible  place  we  discovered  the  inn 
property  cleverly  stored  away.  In  the  end,  we  had  all 
the  animals  hitched  up,  and  the  carts  themselves  full  of 
fodder.  Then,  by  employing  the  same  tactics  as  before, 
just  outside  drivers  were  discovered  and  induced  to  fol- 
low us,  and  now,  with  a  heavy  caravan  to  protect  against 
all  comers,  we  sallied  forth.  This  time  we  would  have 
our  work  cut  out. 

An  hour  and  more  had  elapsed  since  we  had  been  on 
the  open  streets,  and  it  being  near  midday,  and  every- 
thing still  quiet,  we  were  surprised  to  see  people  of  the 
lower  classes  moving  cautiously  about  on  the  main 
streets,  but  disappearing  quickly  at  the  mere  sight  of 
other   people   whose   business   they   could   not    divine. 


THE    SACK  341 

That,  too,  was  soon  explained;  for,  seeing  one  rap- 
scallion trying  to  run  away  with  a  sack  over  his  back, 
we  discharged  a  rifle  at  him.  Straightway  the  man 
stopped  running,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  whiningly  said 
that  he  had  been  permitted  to  take  what  he  was  carrying 
by  honourable  foreign  soldiery  whom  he  had  been 
allowed  to  assist.  The  bundle  contained  only  silks  and 
clothes;  with  a  kick  we  let  him  go.  Plainly  the  plot 
was  thickening  on  all  sides,  and  it  was  becoming  more 
and  more  dangerous  to  be  abroad.  Seized  with  a  new 
thought,  I  stopped  the  whole  caravan,  and  giving  orders 
to  that  effect,  we  soon  had  every  driver  we  had  so  sum- 
marily impressed  securely  strapped  to  his  cart  with  heavy 
rope.  At  least,  if  we  had  to  cut  our  way  back  I  had 
secured  that  our  carts  could  not  be  stampeded  with  ease. 
The  drivers  would  make  them  go  on;  it  would  be  easier 
to  run  forward  than  to  turn  back. 

Then,  as  if  we  realised  the  danger  of  the  road,  we 
began  driving  frantically.  We  wished  to  carry  the  carts 
into  safety.  It  was  not  long  before  we  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance many  groups  of  people  clustering  round  a  big 
building  surrounded  by  high  walls.  That  made  me 
nervous,  for  the  groups  formed  and  dissolved  con- 
tinually, as  if  they  were  in  doubt,  and  seeking  to  gain 
something  which  was  bent  on  resisting.  But  no  sooner 
had  they  seen  this  than  my  men  began  laughing  coarsely, 
and  exclaimed  in  the  vernacular  that  it  was  a  pawn-shop 
which  the  common  people  were  trying  to  loot.  Of 
course,  it  was  certain  that  every  pawn-shop  would  go 
sooner  or  later;  but  the  sight  of  an  actual  attack  in  prog- 
ress seemed  strange  while  the  populace  was  still  so  terror- 
stricken.  To  our  further  surprise,  on  coming  up  we  found 
that  a  number  of  marauders  and  stragglers  belonging  to 


342         INDISCREET   LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

a  variety  of  European  corps  had  been  halted  by  this 
sight;  and  as  we  drew  nearer  we  found  a  private  of  the 
French  Infanterie  Coloniale  groaning  on  the  ground, 
with  a  ghastly  wound  in  his  leg.  No  one  was  attending 
to  him — they  were  too  busy  with  their  own  business,  and 
had  we  not  tied  him  roughly  with  some  cloth  and  rope, 
he  might  have  lain  there  bleeding  to  death.  We  carried 
the  man  to  the  carts  and  decided  we  would  take  him  to 
safety.  But  as  we  made  preparations  to  start  a  warning 
shout  in  French  bade  us  not  to  pass  in  front  of  the  pawn- 
shop gates,  and,  looking  up,  I  found  that  several  other 
French  soldiers,  together  with  some  Indians  and  Anna- 
mites,  had  climbed  the  roofs  of  adjacent  houses,  and 
with  their  rifles  thrown  out  in  front  of  them,  were 
attempting  to  get  a  shot  at  people  inside.  The  place 
was  evidently  securely  held  and  refused  to  surrender. 
Grouped  all  round,  and  armed  with  choppers,  bars  of 
iron  and  long  poles,  the  crowd  of  native  rapscallions 
waited  in  a  grim  silence  for  the  denouement.  It  was  an 
extraordinary  scene.  Everything  and  every  one  was  so 
silent.  I  decided  to  stop  and  see  it  through.  Such 
things  never  happen  twice  in  a  lifetime. 

A  shot  fired  from  the  gate  at  an  incautious  man,  who 
darted  across  the  street,  showed  that  the  defenders  were 
both  vigilant  and  desperate,  and  knew  what  to  expect  at 
the  hands  of  the  foreign  soldiery  and  the  populace  once 
they  poured  in.  Spurred  by  this  sound,  the  French 
soldiers  on  the  roofs  pushed  down  cautiously  nearer  and 
nearer  to  their  prey;  but  presently,  when  I  thought  that 
they  had  almost  won  their  way,  a  shower  of  bricks  and 
heavy  stones  was  sent  at  them  by  unseen  hands  with 
such  savageness  and  skill  that  another  man  was  placed 
hors-de-combat,  and  came  down  groaning  with  his  head 


THE    SACK  343 

split.  His,  however,  was  only  a  scalp  wound,  and,  dis- 
covering that  a  bandage  left  him  practically  none  the 
worse,  he  took  his  place  with  savage  curses  at  a  corner 
just  beyond  the  main  gate,  fixing  his  bayonet  in  grim 
preparation  for  the  end.  Decidedly  there  would  be  no 
quarter  when  that  end  came. 

But  there  appeared  to  be,  nevertheless,  no  means  of 
bringing  about  the  desired  climax.  The  defenders 
showed  their  alertness  by  occasional  shots  that  grated 
harshly  on  the  still  air,  and  the  attack  could  make  no 
progress.  I  wondered  what  would  happen.  Yet  it  did  not 
last  long,  for  Providence  was  at  work.  Two  Cos- 
sacks came  cantering  along  the  street,  bearing  some 
message  from  a  Russian  command;  and  although  warn- 
ing shouts  were  sent  at  them,  too,  as  they  approached, 
they  paid  no  heed,  but  rode  carelessly  by.  As  they  came 
abreast  of  the  main  gate  a  sudden  volley,  which  made 
their  mounts  swerve  so  badly  that  less  adept  horsemen 
would  have  been  flung  heavily  to  the  ground,  greeted 
them  and  sent  them  careering  wildly  for  a  few  yards. 
But  here  were  men  who  understood  this  kind  of  warfare. 
First,  it  is  true,  they  were  a  little  angry  as  they  pulled 
up,  unslung  their  carbines  and  shot  home  cartridges 
as  if  they  would  act  like  the  rest.  .  .  .  But  then,  when 
they  saw  how  things  were,  they  grinned  in  some  delight, 
and  finally  dismounting  and  driving  their  beasts  with 
shouts  off  the  road,  they  prepared  to  join  the  fray. 
With  renewed  interest  I  watched  them  go  to  work. 

A  little  inspection  showed  the  newcomers  that  the 
pawn-shop  was  too  difficult  to  capture  by  direct  assault 
unless  special  means  were  adopted,  for  such  places  being 
constructed  with  a  view  to  resisting  the  attacks  of 
robbers  even  in  peaceful  times,  are  nearly  always  little 


344         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

citadels  in  themselves.  They  are  the  people's  banks. 
For  some  time  the  two  new  arrivals  walked  stealthily 
around,  with  their  carbines  in  their  hands,  peering  here 
and  there,  and  trying  to  find  a  weak  spot.  Then  one 
man  said  something  to  the  other,  and  they  disappeared 
into  a  neighbouring  house,  only  to  emerge  almost  im- 
mediately with  some  bundles  of  straw  and  some  wood. 
To  their  minds  it  was  evidently  the  only  thing  to  be 
done ;  they  were  going  to  set  fire !  Before  there  was 
time  to  protest,  the  Cossacks  had  piled  their  fuel  against 
an  angle  of  the  gate-house,  just  where  they  could  not  be 
shot  at,  and  with  a  puff  the  whole  thing  was  soon  ablaze. 
The  scattered  groups  of  native  rapscallions  on  the  street, 
when  they  saw  what  had  been  done,  gave  a  subdued 
howl  of  despair,  and  cried  aloud  that  the  whole  block  of 
buildings  would  catch  fire,  and  that  everything  in  them 
would  be  destroyed.  These  confident  looters  had  already 
imagined  that  the  pawn-shop  was  theirs  to  dispose  of — 
after  the  honourable  foreign  soldiery  had  had  their  fill ! 

The  Cossacks,  however,  were  men  of  many  ideas,  and 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  all  this  tumult  beyond 
striking  two  or  three  of  the  nearest  men.  They  watched 
the  blaze  with  cunning  little  eyes,  and  as  the  short  flames 
shot  across  the  gate,  driven  by  the  wind,  and  raised 
blinding  clouds  of  smoke,  one  of  them  said  it  was  all 
right  and  that  we  would  be  soon  inside.  On  the  roofs 
the  French  soldiers  and  their  companions  lay  silently 
watching  in  amazement  the  antics  of  the  two  dismounted 
horsemen,  and  from  the  shouts  and  curses  which  now 
came  from  the  pawn-shop  compound  itself,  it  was  plain 
that  this  method  of  attack  would  be  productive  of  some 
result.     It  was  becoming  more  and  more  interesting. 

My  attention  was  distracted  for  an  instant  by  seeing 


THE    SACK  345 

one  of  the  Cossacks  climb  up  beside  two  French  soldiers 
and  explain  to  them  gravely,  with  a  violent  pantomime 
of  his  hands,  what  they  should  do  in  a  moment  or  two. 
When  I  turned,  it  was  to  find  that  the  second  had  driven 
with  boot-kicks  and  some  swinging  blows  from  his 
loaded  carbine  a  number  of  the  street  people  towards 
some  of  those  long  poles  which  can  always  be  found 
stacked  on  the  Peking  main  streets.  My  own  men, 
understanding  now  what  was  to  be  done,  ran  forward, 
too,  to  help,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  two  long 
poles  had  been  borne  forward  and  laid  in  position  across 
the  highway.  In  spite  of  all  modern  progress,  much  the 
same  ways  of  attack  have  still  to  be  adopted  in  siege 
work.  Then,  with  some  further  pantomime  explaining 
how  it  would  be  impossible  to  see  or  hurt  them  under 
cover  of  that  smoke,  the  Cossacks  induced  the  crowd  to 
raise  the  poles  again.  This  time  everybody's  blood  was 
up,  and,  urging  one  another  on  with  short  staccato  shouts, 
dozens  of  willing  men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  jumped 
forward,  and  the  timbers  were  driven  with  a  tremendous 
impetus  against  the  gates.  As  they  crashed  against  the 
wood,  and  half  splintered  the  stout  entrances,  a  suc- 
cession of  shots  rang  out  from  the  roofs,  and  I  saw  the 
French  marauders  sliding  rapidly  down  and  fall  out  of 
sight  into  the  compound.  The  defence  had  been  broken 
down — at  least,  at  this  point.     It  seemed  quite  over. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  hack  the  gates 
aside,  and  through  the  choking  fumes  and  charred  re- 
mains the  whole  infuriated  crowd  now  poured.  The 
little  blaze,  having  met  with  much  brick  and  stone,  was 
smouldering  out,  and  so  long  as  it  was  not  kindle'4  anew 
there  was  no  danger  of  the  fire  spreading. 

Like  a  rush  of  muddy  waters,  the  sweating,  brown- 


346         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

backed  men,  now  mad  with  a  lust  for  pillage,  tore 
through  the  first  courtyard.  I  was  borne  along  with 
them  perforce  like  a  piece  of  flotsam  on  a  raging  flood- 
tide;  there  was  no  turning  back.  Besides,  such  things 
do  not  happen  every  day.   .    .    . 

The  Frenchmen  and  their  companions  had  already  dis- 
appeared inside,  and  on  the  ground  lay  two  of  the  pawn- 
shop men,  dead  or  dying,  swimming  silently  in  their  own 
blood.  Beyond  this  there  was  a  first  hall,  empty  and 
devoid  of  furniture,  excepting  for  immensely  long 
wooden  counters;  and  as  I  jumped  through  to  the  ware- 
houses beyond,  I  saw  dimly  in  the  darkened  room  those 
dozens  of  city  rapscallions  whom  we  had  unleashed  hurl 
themselves  on  to  the  counters  and  literally  tear  them 
to  pieces.  They  knew !  Thousands  of  strings  of  cash 
were  laid  bare  by  this  action,  and  with  the  quickness  of 
lightning  hundreds  of  furious  hands  tore  and  snatched, 
while  hot  voices  smote  the  air  in  snarls  and  gasps.  They 
wanted  this  money — would  lose  their  lives  for  it.  In  an 
instant  the  pawn-shop  hall  had  been  turned  into  a 
sulphurous  saturnalia  horrid  to  witness.  That  gave  you 
a  grim  idea  of  mob  violence.    I  rushed  to  escape  it.  .  .   . 

In  the  warehouses  beyond  I  found  the  Frenchmen  and 
the  first  Cossack,  who  had  directed  the  carrying  of  the 
place  by  assault,  breaking  open  with  rude  jests  chests  and 
boxes,  and  flinging  to  the  ground  the  contents  of  count- 
less shelves.  They  cared  nothing  for  the  things  they 
found ;  they  were  hunting  for  treasure.  With  curses  as 
their  disappointment  deepened,  and  always  hurling  more 
and  more  shelves  and  cupboards  to  the  ground,  they  soon 
reduced  room  after  room  to  a  confusion  such  as  I  have 
never  before  witnessed.  Rich  silks  and  costly  furs,  boxes 
of  trinkets,    embroideries,   women's   head-dresses,    and 


THE    SACK  347 

hundreds  of  other  things  were  flung  to  the  ground  and 
trampled  under  foot  into  shapeless  masses  in  a  few 
moments,  raising  a  choking  dust  which  cut  one's  breath- 
ing. They  wanted  only  treasure,  these  men,  gold  if 
possible,  something  which  possessed  an  instant  value  for 
them — something  whose  very  touch  spelled  fortune. 
Nothing  else.  In  some  amazement  I  watched  this 
frantic  scene.  From  the  outer  courtyards  came  the  same 
roar  of  excitement  as  the  street  crowd  fought  with  one 
another  for  possession  of  all  that  wealth  in  cash;  sepa- 
rated from  one  another  by  only  a  few  yards,  European 
marauders  and  Chinese  vagabonds,  I  reflected,  were 
acting  in  much  the  same  way.  I  followed  the  French- 
men and  their  companions  into  the  last  great  rooms,  all 
dust-laden  and  filled  with  boxes  without  number,  which 
were  carefully  ticketed  and  stacked  one  upon  another. 
Some  were  prized  open  with  bayonets;  some  had  their 
pigskin  covers  beaten  through  by  butt-end  blows;  but 
whatever  their  treatment,  there  were  always  the  same 
furs  and  silks.     There  was  no  treasure. 

My  men  had  now  fought  their  way  through  the  outer 
crowd,  and  rapidly  flinging  out  coat  after  coat,  sug- 
gested that  sables  were  at  least  worth  the  taking  and  the 
keeping.  They  selected  two  or  three  score  of  these  coats 
of  precious  skins,  beautiful  long  Chinese  robes  reaching 
to  the  feet,  and  tumbling  them  into  emptied  trunks,  we 
went  out  as  soon  as  possible.  We  had  had  enough. 
The  explanation  of  why  the  crowd  had  not  rushed 
through  was  in  front  of  us.  The  remaining  Cossack 
had  seated  himself,  carbine  in  hand,  on  the  stone  ledge 
at  the  entrance  to  the  inner  courtyards  and  held  every 
one  in  check;  just  beyond  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
men  stripped  to  the  waist,  glistening  in  their  sweat  and 


348  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

trembling  in  their  excitement,  were  waiting  for  the  signal 
which  would  let  them  go.  I  noticed  that  now  there  were 
old  women,  too.  The  whole  quarter  was  coming  as  fast 
as  it  could.  .   .   . 

The  Cossack  grinned  when  he  saw  me  appear,  and 
looked  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  at  the  sables.  To 
him  these  were  not  priceless.  Then  he  explained  his 
unconcerned  attitude  in  a  single  gesture.  He  pushed  a 
hand  down  into  his  rough  riding  boots  and  pulled  out 
one  of  those  Chinese  gold  bars  which  look  for  all  the 
world  like  the  conventional  yellow  finger-biscuits  which 
one  eats  with  ice-cream.  The  rascal  had  elsewhere  come 
across  some  rich  preserve  and  had  his  feet  loaded  with 
gold — for  he  pulled  out  other  bars  to  show  me — and  he  did 
not  care  for  this  petty  pilfering.  Then  the  Frenchmen 
began  coming  out,  with  the  Annamites  and  the  Indians, 
each  man  with  a  bundle  on  his  back,  and  the  Cossack, 
esteeming  his  watch  ended,  got  up  and  stepped  back. 
Once  again,  like  bloodhounds,  the  crowd  rushed  in,  an 
endless  stream  of  men,  women,  and  even  children,  all 
summoned  by  the  news  that  the  pawn-shop,  which  was 
their  natural  enemy,  had  fallen.  They  roared  past  us, 
striking  and  tearing  at  one  another  with  insane  gestures, 
as  if  each  one  feared  that  he  would  be  too  late.  Inside 
the  scene  must  have  baffled  description,  for  a  clamour 
soon  rose  which  showed  that  it  was  a  battle  to  the  death 
to  secure  loot  at  any  price.  Shrill  cries  and  awful  groans 
rose  high  above  the  storm  of  sound,  as  the  desperadoes 
of  the  city,  who  were  mixed  with  the  more  innocent 
common  people,  struck  out  with  choppers  and  bar  iron 
and  mercilessly  felled  to  the  ground  all  who  stood  in 
their  way.  With  conflicting  feelings  we  struggled  out- 
side, and  as  I  mounted  my  pony,  a  wretched  man  covered 


THE    SACK  349 

with  blood  rushed  forward,  and  flinging  himself  at  my 
feet,  cried  to  me  sobbingly  to  save  him.  He  was  the 
last  of  the  pawn-shop  defenders  and  was  bleeding  in  a 
dozen  places.  Him,  too,  we  roughly  tied  up  and  saved, 
and  telling  him  to  mount  a  cart  and  to  lie  concealed 
inside,  at  last  we  moved  on  again.  We  were  gathering 
odd  cargo. 

The  day  was  now  waning,  for  the  time  had  flown 
swiftly  with  such  strange  scenes,  and  people  began  to 
slink  out  from  side  alleys  more  and  more  frequently,  as 
if  they  had  been  waiting  for  this  dusk.  Several  times 
we  passed  bands  of  men  armed  with  swords  and  knives 
— Boxers,  without  a  doubt — who  calmly  watched  us  ap- 
proach, as  if  they  were  debating  whether  they  should 
attack  us  or  not.  Once,  too,  a  roll  of  musketry  suddenly 
rang  out  sharp  and  clear  but  a  few  hundred  feet  away 
from  the  high  road,  only  to  be  succeeded  by  an  icy 
silence — more  speaking  than  any  sound.  We  did  not 
dare  to  stray  away  to  inquire  what  it  might  be;  the  high 
road  was  our  only  safety.  Even  that  was  doubtful. 
Curious  isolated  encounters  were  taking  place  all  over 
the  vast  city  of  Peking;  it  was  now  every  one  for  him- 
self, and  not  even  the  devil  taking  care  of  the  hindmost. 
It  was  no  place  for  innocents. 

At  last,  by  vigorous  riding  and  driving,  which  caused  a 
great  clatter  and  drew  forth  many  leering  faces  from 
darkened  doorways,  we  debouched  into  that  long  main 
street  down  which  I  had  shot  so  few  days  before  in  such 
an  agony  of  doubt.  Hurrying  homeward  in  the  same 
direction,  we  now  met  bands  of  our  siege  converts  in 
groups  of  forty  and  fifty  strong.  These  men,  who  had 
come  so  near  to  starving  during  the  siege,  were  having 
their  own  revenge.     They  had  sallied  forth  with  such 


350  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

arms  as  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  and  had  been 
plundering  all  day  within  easy  reach  of  the  Legations. 
They  had  done  what  they  could,  and  had  gathered 
every  manner  of  thing  in  which  they  stood  most  in  need. 
Each  man  had  immense  bundles  tied  to  his  back — it  was 
the  revenge  for  all  they  had  suffered.  They  had  given 
no  quarter  either,  and  before  many  more  hours  had  gone 
by  they  would  have  made  up  for  those  long  weeks.  .  .  . 
We  soon  left  these  groups  behind,  and  with  the  whole 
cavalcade  now  going  at  a  hand-gallop,  it  dawned  on  our 
companions  and  beasts  which  we  had  so  curiously  gath- 
ered during  the  day  that  we  were  nearing  our  destina- 
tion. 

But  here  the  roadway  was  absolutely  deserted,  and  in 
the  dusk  I  realised  that  had  we  been  farther  from  home 
we  would  almost  certainly  be  ambuscaded  by  some  of  the 
many  ruffians  Boxerism  had  unloosed  on  the  city.  Here 
was  a  sort  of  neutral  belt.  At  every  turning  I  half 
expected  a  volley  to  greet  us;  at  every  door-creak  I 
thought  there  would  be  some  rush  of  armed  men  which 
would  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  meet  without  los- 
ing half  the  convoy.  Yet  these  fancies  were  not  justi- 
fied, for  to  my  immense  surprise,  at  a  crossroad  I  saw 
numbers  of  women  in  their  curious  Manchu  head-dress 
standing  at  a  big  gateway,  all  dressed  in  their  best 
clothes.  As  we  passed  they  caught  sight  of  me,  and, 
nothing  abashed,  began  immediately  calling  to  me  and 
waving  with  their  arms.  This  was  extraordinary  and 
unlooked  for.  At  first  I  thought  that  they  were  only 
courtesans,  who  had  been  deprived  for  so  long  of  all 
custom  that  they  had  been  rendered  desperate,  and  were 
seeking  to  inveigle  me  fante  de  mieux;  but  remembering 
that  such  women  are  confined  to  the  outer  city,  I  reined 


THE   SACK  351 

in  my  mount,  halted  the  whole  caravan,  and  went  slowly 
towards  them,  half  fearing,  I  confess,  some  ruse.  Yet 
the  women  greeted  me  with  fresh  cries  and  words. 
There  were  a  full  dozen  of  them  of  the  best  class,  and 
they  explained  to  me  that  they  had  been  left,  absolutely 
abandoned,  two  nights  before  by  all  the  men  of  the 
household,  who,  fearing  the  worst  and  hearing  that  the 
way  out  through  the  north  of  the  city  was  still  open, 
had  seized  all  the  draft  and  riding  animals  and  ridden 
rapidly  away,  saying  that  the  women  would  be  spared 
by  the  foreign  soldiery,  but  that  probably  every  man  of 
rank  would  be  killed.  No  one  had  molested  them  so  far, 
because  this  house  lay  so  close  to  the  foreign  troops,  but 
with  so  many  armed  men  on  the  streets,  and  with  the 
pillaging  and  the  murder  that  was  going  on,  they  did  not 
know  how  long  they  would  be  spared.  They  told  me 
this  quickly  in  gasps.  I  paused  in  doubt  to  know  what 
to  answer;  it  was  every  one  for  himself,  and  the  devil 
not  even  looking  after  the  hindmost,  as  I  have  just  said. 
But  women.  ...  I  must  propose  something. 

They  saw  my  hesitation,  and,  women-like,  renewed  their 
pleading  in  chorus.  I  noticed,  also,  that  two  or  three 
of  the  older  ones  grouped  themselves  close  together, 
and,  putting  down  their  heads,  began  rapidly  discussing 
in  loud  whispers,  which  showed  their  trepidation.  Then 
they  called  a  tall,  splendidly  built  woman,  and,  telling 
her  something  in  an  undertone,  pushed  her  forward 
towards  me.  Unabashed,  she  advanced  on  me  with  a 
firm  step,  and  laying  a  white-skinned  hand — for  the 
Manchus  can  be  very  white — on  my  arm,  she  begged  me 
to  stop  here  myself — to  make  this  my  house  for  the  time 
being — to  do  as  I  pleased  with  all  of  them.  .  .  .  After 
all  those  weeks  of  privation,  that  constant  rifle-fire,  that 


352         INDISCREET    LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

stench  of  earth-soiled  men,  this  woman  so  close  seemed 
strange.  ...  I  answered,  in  greater  confusion,  that  I 
could  not  yet  say  whether  it  was  possible  for  me  to  stay 
so  far  away;  that  there  might  be  trouble;  that  I  would 
see  and  let  them  know  before  the  night  was  far  ad- 
vanced.   .    .    . 

Not  wholly  satisfied  and  half  doubting,  they  let  me 
draw  off  with  their  pleadings  renewed.  Then,  as  I 
thought  something  might  happen  before  I  could  let 
them  know,  I  gave  them  two  rifles  from  the  store  we 
had  collected,  and  telling  them  to  bar  and  bolt  their 
gate,  showed  them  how  a  shot  or  two  would  probably 
drive  off  an  attack.  We  clattered  on  and  lost  them  in 
the  gloom.   .    .    . 

It  was  almost  dark  as  we  re-entered  the  ruined  Lega- 
tion lines  and  picked  our  way  slowly  though  the  debris 
which  still  stood  stacked  on  the  streets.  Fatigue  parties 
of  many  corps  were  finishing  their  work  of  attempting  to 
restore  some  order  and  cleanliness,  and  clouds  of  murky 
dust  hung  heavily  in  the  air.  All  round  these  narrow 
streets  there  was  an  atmosphere  of  exhaustion  and  dis- 
order, crushed  on  top  of  one  another,  which  oppressed 
one  so  much  after  the  open  streets,  that  an  immense 
nostalgia  suddenly  swept  over  me.  We  had  had  too 
much  of  it;  I  was  tired  and  weary  of  it  all.  It  was 
mean  and  miserable  after  the  great  anti-climax.  It  was 
like  coming  back  to  a  soiled  dungeon. 

We  picked  our  way  right  through  where  two  days  be- 
fore no  vehicles  could  have  passed,  and  I  stabled  all  the 
animals  and  carts,  and  handed  them  over  to  where  they 
were  needed.  Then  I  ordered  that  our  captured  things, 
our  weapons,  and  my  few  last  belongings  should  be 
loaded  into  one  remaining  cart,  and  ordering  my  men  to 


THE    SACK  353 

follow,  without  a  word  of  explanation  I  started  off  again. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind. 

We  passed  rapidly  enough  out  and  again  sped  in  the 
blackening  night  down  the  long  street  just  as  we  had 
returned.  Almost  too  soon  we  reached  that  great  gate 
on  the  corner  to  find  it  barred  and  bolted.  Somehow 
my  heart  sank  within  me  at  this;  was  it  too  late? 

But  there  were  cries  and  a  confusion  of  voices.  Some- 
body peered  through.  Then  there  was  delight.  The 
gate  was  unbarred  by  weak  women's  hands,  and  the  soft 
Manchu  voice  which  had  first  begged  me  to  stop  was 
speaking  to  me  again.  .   .   . 

Inside  I  found  the  courtyards  and  the  lines  of  rooms 
which  fronted  each  square  were  immense  and  furnished 
with  richly  carved  woodwork;  it  was  a  rich  house,  and 
there  was  a  profusion  of  everything  which  could  be  wanted 
— only  no  men !  We  securely  bolted  and  barred  the 
main  gate,  and  for  safety  loopholed  a  little,  because  that 
is  an  art  in  which  we  had  become  adepts.  Then,  with 
candles  murkily  shedding  their  light,  I  explored  every 
nook  and  corner  to  guard  against  surprise,  always  with 
that  soft  voice  explaining  to  me.  It  was  very  quiet  and 
soft  with  that  atmosphere  around;  it  was  like  a  narcotic 
when  a  roar  of  fever  still  hangs  in  one's  ears.  I  became 
more  and  more  content.  After  all,  we  had  become  ab- 
normal; a  shade  more  or  less  could  make  no  difference. 
.   .   .  That  night  was  a  pleasant  dream.  .  .  . 


Ill 

THE   SACK   CONTINUES 

August,  1900. 


To  rediscover  the  ease  and  luxury  of  lying  down,  not 
brute-like,  but  man-like,  seemed  to  me  an  immense  thing. 
I  had  had  my  first  night's  sleep  on  a  bed  for  nearly  three 
months,  and  I  wished  never  to  rise  again.  I  wished 
to  be  immensely  lazy  for  a  long  period — not  to  have  to 
move  or  think  or  act.  But  that  could  not  be.  All  sorts 
of  marauders  were  sweeping  the  city  and  working  their 
wills  in  a  hundred  different  ways.  Half  a  dozen  times, 
as  soon  as  daylight  had  come,  shots  had  been  fired 
through  my  gateway.  European  soldiery,  who  had 
broken  away  from  their  corps,  and  native  vagabonds 
and  disguised  Boxers,  who  had  hidden  panic-stricken 
during  the  first  hours  after  the  relief,  were  now  prowling 
about  armed  from  head  to  foot.  The  vast  city,  which 
had  been  given  over  for  weeks  to  mad  disorders  and 
insane  Boxerism,  was  in  a  receptive  condition  for  this 
final  climax.  There  was  no  semblance  of  authority  left; 
with  troops  of  many  rival  nationalities  always  pouring 
in,  and  a  nominal  state  of  war  still  existing,  with  the 
possibility  of  a  Chinese  counter-advance  taking  place, 
how  could  there  be?  .  .  .  There  was  nothing  left  to 
restrain  anybody.   .    .    . 

I  thought  of  these  things  lying  at  my  ease,  and  debated 
how  long  I  could  stay  in  that  unconcerned  attitude.     It 


THE    SACK    CONTINUES  355 

was  not  long.  For  as  I  lay,  there  was  a  thunder  of  blows 
somewhere  near,  and  then  a  crackle  of  shots,  whose 
echoes  smote  so  clean  that  I  knew  that  firearms  were 
pointed  in  the  direction  of  this  house.  I  jumped  up 
without  delay.  I  was  not  a  minute  too  soon,  for  as  I 
seized  my  rifle,  one  of  my  men  ran  in  and  shouted  to  me 
that  foreign  cavalrymen  had  burst  in,  shooting  in  the 
air,  and  were  now  driving  out  all  the  animals  and  looting 
all  the  carts  as  well.  Nothing  could  be  done  unless  I  lent 
my  leadership. 

Hastily  I  ran  out,  feeding  a  cartridge  into  my  rifle- 
chamber  as  I  rushed.  This  time  I  was  determined  to 
give  a  lesson  and  pay  back  in  the  same  coin.  The 
marauders  were  Cossacks  again. 

There  were  only  four  of  them,  however,  and  when 
they  caught  sight  of  me  they  tried  to  stampede  my  mob 
and  bolt  ingloriously  with  them.  But  we  were  too  quick. 
I  gave  the  first  man's  mount  my  first  cartridge  in  a  fast 
shot,  which  took  the  animal  well  behind  the  shoulder 
and  brought  the  rider  instantly  down  in  a  heap  to  the 
ground.  That  mixed  them  up  so  that  before  they  could 
extricate  themselves  they  were  all  covered  with  our  rifles 
and  the  gates  tight  shut.  Then  we  calmly  dragged  the 
men  off  their  ponies  and  kept  them  in  suspense  for  many 
minutes,  debating  aloud  what  to  do.  Finally  we  let 
them  go  after  some  harsh  threatening.  The  man  who 
had  lost  his  mount,  nothing  abashed,  swung  himself 
coolly  up  behind  a  comrade,  with  his  saddle  and  bridle 
on  his  arm,  without  a  comment.  And  as  soon  as  they 
were  in  the  open  street  they  galloped  fast  away,  as  if 
they  feared  we  would  shoot  them  down  from  behind. 
That  showed  what  was  going  on  elsewhere.  .    .    . 

I  knew  now  what  to  expect  unless  we  made  very  ready, 


S56         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

for  surely  a  sharp  revenge  attack  would  come  as  soon 
as  it  was  dark.  So  grimly  we  set  to  work,  with  a  return 
of  our  old  fighting  feelings,  and  rapidly  fortified  the 
main  gate  against  all  cavalry  raids.  We  dug  a  broad 
moat  behind  the  gate,  and  threw  up  a  respectable  barri- 
cade with  the  earth  we  had  gained.  Then  we  brought 
some  timbers  and  built  them  in  on  top  with  the  aid  of 
bricks  and  stones,  so  as  to  have  a  line  of  loopholes  con- 
verging on  the  entrance.  We  trained  some  of  the  many 
rifles  we  had  picked  up  in  the  same  direction,  and 
strapped  them  into  position,  just  as  the  Chinese  com- 
mands had  done  all  along  their  barricades  during  the 
siege.  In  this  way  we  made  it  so  that  in  a  few  seconds 
a  dozen  of  the  enemy  could  be  brought  to  the  ground 
without  the  defending  force  showing  a  finger.  That 
would  be  enough  for  any  Cossacks.  .   .   . 

Before  midday  we  had  added  a  couple  of  lookout  posts 
to  the  roofs,  and  then,  secure  in  this  new-found  strength, 
I  determined  to  go  abroad  once  more  to  collect  supplies 
and  food.  That  decision  was  materially  helped  by  an 
incident  which  showed  that  every  one  was  acting  and 
that  it  was  the  only  way.  As  we  cautiously  opened  our 
main  gate  and  prepared  to  sally  out,  a  cart  came  by, 
accompanied  by  several  men  from  the  Legations  on 
horseback,  who  were  much  excited.  Well  might  they 
be;  they  had  two  of  their  number  inside  that  cart,  both 
shot  and  bleeding  badly  from  flesh  wounds.  They  had 
been  right  to  the  east  of  the  city,  they  reported,  where 
the  Russians  and  Japanese  had  come  in.  It  was  terrible 
there,  they  said.  Nothing  but  dead  people  and  fires  and 
looting.  Chinese  soldiers  had  still  remained  there  in 
hiding  and  were  defending  some  of  the  bigger  buildings 
belonging  to  Manchu  princes.     Plunderers,  also,  were 


THE    SACK    CONTINUES  357 

everywhere  on  the  road.  They  advised  caution  and  told 
us  not  to  trust  ourselves  in  the  alleyways.  They  had 
been  caught  like  that,  and  their  servants  and  horse-boys 
had  deserted  in  a  body  four  miles  away  immediately  fire 
was  opened  on  them  from  some  fortified  house.  That 
made  me  all  the  more  determined.  I  would  go  and 
be  shot,  too,  if  necessary,  since  it  was  the  order  of  the 
day,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  it  would  be  no  easy  job 
to  catch  me  sleeping.  Already  I  understood  fully  the 
new  methods  and  the  new  requirements. 

We  rode  away,  stirrup  to  stirrup,  I,  a  single  white  man, 
with  a  dozen  doubtful  adherents,  made  savage  at  the 
idea  of  loot,  as  companions,  and  held  to  me  only  by  a 
questionable  community  of  interests.  Yet  what  did  it 
matter,  I  thought.  One  lives  only  once  and  dies  only 
once.     That  is  elemental  truth.     So  tant  pis. 

In  our  joy  at  being  on  those  open  streets  again,  with 
never  a  passer-by  or  a  vehicle  to  obstruct  one's  rapid 
passage,  we  went  ahead  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust.  We 
passed  street  after  street  with  always  the  same  silence 
about  us  we  had  noticed  the  day  before.  Everything 
was  closed,  tight  shut;  there  was  not  a  cat  or  a  dog 
stirring  abroad.  Near  the  Legations  and  the  Palace, 
where  the  fear  lay  the  heaviest,  it  seemed  like  a  city  of 
the  dead. 

Yet  we  knew  that  there  were  plenty  of  living  men  only 
biding  their  time  and  waiting  their  opportunity.  It 
was  only  night  that  these  people  desired;  a  good  black 
night  so  that  no  one  could  see  them  flit  about.  You  felt 
in  the  small  of  your  back  as  you  rode  along  that  ugly 
faces  were  looking  at  you  from  the  silent  houses,  and 
that  at  any  moment  shots  might  ring  out  suddenly  and 
bear  you  to  the  ground.     But  that  was  merely  a  prelim- 


358         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

inary  feeling.  Soon  it  added  zest  to  the  entertainment. 
What,  indeed,  did  it  matter?  It  only  made  one  more 
and  more  reckless. 

We  sped  swiftly  along,  only  twice  seeing  men  of  any 
sort  in  several  miles  of  streets.  Once  they  were  fellows 
who,  on  our  approach,  scuttled  so  quickly  away  to  hide 
their  identity  that  we  could  not  be  sure  whether  they 
were  white  or  yellow.  But  once,  without  concealment,  a 
band  of  mixed  European  soldiery,  in  terrible  disorder, 
who  first  wished  to  fire  on  us,  and  then  when  they  saw 
me  set  up  a  colourless  sort  of  cheer,  appeared  suddenly, 
only  to  disappear.  We  never  paused  an  instant;  we  kept 
straight  on. 

As  we  made  our  way  farther  and  farther  to  the  east 
and  came  across  rich  districts  of  barricaded  shops,  signs 
were  clear  that  pillaging  had  gone  on  here  already  with 
insane  violence,  but  by  whom  or  at  what  time  it  was  im- 
possible to  say.  Sometimes  there  were  battered-in  doors 
and  windows,  with  ugly,  swollen  corpses  stretched  near 
by;  sometimes  the  contents  of  a  rich  emporium  had  been 
swept,  as  if  by  some  strange  whirlwind,  out  on  the  street 
to  litter  the  whole  driving  road  many  inches  deep  with 
the  most  heterogeneous  things.  On  the  ground,  too, 
were  dozens  of  the  rude  imitation  flags  which  had  been 
so  frantically  made  by  the  terror-stricken  populace  in 
order  to  disclaim  all  association  with  Boxerism  and  the 
mad  Imperialism  being  now  so  summarily  swept  away. 
Jeering  looters  had  torn  these  things  down  and  cast  them 
in  the  dirt  to  show,  as  a  reply,  that  there  was  to  be  no 
quarter  if  they  could  help  it.  These  grim  notes,  limned 
speakingly  on  everything,  made  it  plain  that  a  movement 
was  in  the  air  which  could  hardly  be  arrested.  It  made 
one  feel  a  little  insane  and  intoxicated  to  see  it  all;  and 


THE   SACK    CONTINUES  359 

as  one's  blood  rushed  through  one's  veins,  after  that  long 
captivity,  one  had,  too,  the  desire  to  add  a  little  more 
destruction,  to  break  down  places  and  to  shoot  for  the 
amusement  of  the  thing.  You  could  not  help  it;  it  was  in 
the  air,  I  say.  It  was  a  subtle  poison  which  could  not  be 
analysed,  but  which  kept  on  coursing  through  one's 
veins  and  heating  the  blood  to  fever-pitch.  The  vast 
open  streets  needed  filling  up  with  noise  and  rapid  move- 
ments, one  thought;  the  inhabitants  must  be  galvanised 
to  life  again,  one  felt.  .    .    . 

My  men  needed  every  kind  of  wearing  apparel,  for 
they  had  been  in  rags  all  through  the  siege,  and  as  soon 
as  possible  they  showed  that  they  appreciated  the  situa- 
tion, and  did  not  intend  to  stand  on  ceremony.  They  set 
to  work  as  soon  as  they  saw  what  they  wanted.  A  huge 
Chinese  boot,  gaudily  painted  on  a  swinging  sign-board, 
proclaimed  a  boot-shop,  where  in  ordinary  times  they 
could  buy  every  kind  of  foot-covering.  But  now  it  was 
no  good  attempting  such  methods.  So  they  tilted 
straight  at  the  shop-door  without  hesitation,  and  beating 
a  wild  rataplan  of  blows  on  the  wooden  shutters,  de- 
manded an  entry  in  a  roar  of  voices.  Otherwise  they 
would  shoot,  they  added.  In  very  few  seconds,  at  this 
clamour,  some  shuffling  steps  were  heard  and  trembling 
hands  unbarred  in  haste,  fearing  a  worse  fate.  We  then 
saw  two  blanched  and  trembling  shopkeepers,  whose 
dirtied  clothes  and  dishevelled  hair  showed  that  they  had 
had  days  and  nights  of  the  most  wretched  existence. 
Shakingly  they  asked  what  we  wanted,  adding  that  they 
had  not  a  piece  of  silver  or  yet  a  string  of  cash  left.  The 
Boxers  had  taken  everything  weeks  before;  now  honour- 
able foreign  soldiery  were  beating  them  because  they 
were  so  poor.     My  men  did  not  trouble  to  answer;  they 


360         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

went  to  work.  They  wanted  boots  and  shoes,  and 
plenty  of  them,  since  there  were  plenty  to  take,  and  so 
they  searched  and  picked  and  chose.  But  presently 
one  man  gave  vent  to  an  oath,  and  then,  in  his  surprise, 
laughed  coarsely.  He  had  discovered  that  there  were 
only  boots  and  shoes  for  the  left  foot.  There  was  noth- 
ing for  the  right  foot,  not  a  single  boot,  not  a  single 
shoe !  Once  again  they  did  not  trouble  to  speak,  but 
merely  pushing  fire-pieces  against  the  luckless  shop- 
keepers' heads  waited  in  silence.  Immediately  the  men 
broke  down  anew  and  began  whining  more  explanations. 
It  was  true  there  were  no  right  feet,  they  said.  The 
right  feet  were  over  there  in  a  neighbour's  shop.  That 
shop  had  all  the  right  feet ;  they  had  only  left  feet.  This 
seemed  strange  humour.  Yet  it  was  a  good,  if  crude, 
device  which  these  cunning  shopkeepers  had  hit  on  even 
in  their  distress.  For  they  knew  that  looters  would 
probably  not  waste  time  attempting  to  match  shoes  in 
such  confusion,  when  so  much  better  things  were  lying 
near.  They  hoped  at  least  to  save  their  stock  by  this 
device ;  and  it  seemed  certain  that  they  would.  I  said  not 
a  word;  this  was  a  family  affair. 

In  the  end  a  bargain  was  struck;  two  pairs  of  shoes  for 
each  man,  and  the  rest  to  be  left  untouched.  Then  the 
right  feet  appeared  soon  enough  from  hidden  places, 
and  the  shopmen  were  saved  from  further  loss.  With 
all  the  other  things  the  same  procedure  was  adopted 
along  this  shopman's  street.  A  bargain  was  struck  in 
each  case,  which  saved  one  side  from  undue  loss  and 
gave  the  other  far  less  trouble.  In  this  new  fashion  we 
captured  chickens,  eggs,  sheep,  rice,  flour,  and  a  dozen 
other  necessaries,  only  taking  a  quarter  of  what  we 
would  have  seized  otherwise,   in  return  for  the  help 


THE    SACK    CONTINUES  361 

given.  It  was  curious  shopping,  but  everybody  was 
curious  now.  What  you  did  not  take,  somebody  would 
seize  ten  minutes  later. 

These  occupations  were  so  peaceful  and  gave  so  little 
difficulty,  that  it  soon  seemed  to  me  as  if  everything  was 
actually  settling  down  quietly  in  this  one  corner  of  the 
city.  Yet  it  was  not  so.  We  were  only  having  momen- 
tary luck.  For  presently  soldiers  of  various  nationalities 
began  passing  in  many  directions,  some  returning  from 
successful  forays,  and  others  just  starting  out  to  see  what 
they  could  pick  up.  And  on  top  of  them  all  came  a  curi- 
ous young  fellow  from  one  of  the  Legations,  galloping 
along  on  a  big  white  horse  he  must  have  just  looted. 
He  was  accompanied  by  no  one.  He  had  been  half-mad 
for  weeks  during  the  siege  and  now  seemed  quite  crazy 
as  he  rode. 

It  was  he  who  had  again  and  again  volunteered  to  play 
the  part  of  executioner  to  all  the  wretched  coolies  en- 
gaged in  sapping  under  our  lines  who  had  been  captured 
from  time  to  time,  and  whose  heads  had  at  once  paid 
the  last  penalty.  This  man  had  done  it  always  with  a 
shot-gun,  and  he  had  seemed  to  gloat  over  it;  and  in  the 
end  people  had  taken  a  detestation  for  him,  and  looked 
upon  him  for  some  strange  reason  as  a  little  unclean. 
Now  he  was  madly  excited,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  he 
called  out,  in  his  thick  Brussels  accent,  and  made  a  long 
broken  speech,  which  I  shall  never  forget. 

"Have  you  seen  them?"  he  said,  not  pausing  for  a 
reply.  "It  is  the  sight  of  all  others — the  best  of  all. 
Hsu  Tung,  you  remember,  the  Imperial  Tutor,  who 
wished  to  make  covers  for  his  sedan  chair  with  our  hides, 
and  who  was  allowed  to  escape  when  we  had  him  tight? 
Well,  he  is  swinging  high  now  from  his  own  rafters, 


362         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

he  and  his  whole  household — wives,  children,  concu- 
bines, attendants,  every  one.  There  are  sixteen  of  them 
in  all — sixteen,  all  swinging  from  ropes  tied  on  with 
their  own  hands,  and  with  the  chairs  on  which  they  stood 
kicked  from  under  them.  That  they  did  in  their  death 
struggles.  Everywhere  they  have  acted  in  the  same 
way.  They  call  it  hanging,  but  it  is  not  that;  it  is  really 
slow  strangulation,  which  lasts  for  many  minutes,  be- 
cause at  the  last  moment  the  victims  become  afraid  and 
try  to  regain  their  footholds." 

The  man  paused  a  minute  and  licked  his  dry  lips.  To 
me  there  was  something  hideous  in  this  story  being  told 
on  that  sacked  street.  His  voice  sounded  a  little  like 
those  Chinese  trumpets,  whose  gurgling  notes  make  one 
think  instantly  of  evil  things.  Then  he  went  on,  more 
furiously  than  ever: 

"And  the  wells  near  the  Eastern  Gates,  have  you  seen 
them,  where  all  the  women  and  girls  have  been  jumping 
in?  They  are  full  of  women  and  young  girls — quite 
full,  because  they  were  afraid  of  the  troops,  especially 
of  the  black  troops.  The  black  troops  become  insane, 
the  people  say,  when  they  see  women.  So  the  women 
killed  themselves  wherever  they  heard  the  guns.  Now 
they  are  hauling  up  the  dead  bodies  so  that  the  wells  will 
not  be  poisoned.  I  have  seen  them  take  six  and  seven 
bodies  from  the  same  well,  all  clinging  together,  and  the 
men  have  tried  to  kill  me  because  I  looked.  But  I  was 
well  mounted;  I  could  look  as  long  as  I  liked,  and  then 
gallop  away  so  fast  that  not  even  their  shots  could  catch 
me.  The  place  is  full  of  dead  people,  nothing  but  dead 
people  everywhere,  and  more  are  dying  every  minute." 

Then  he  came  up  to  me  and  whispered  how  soldiers 
were  behaving  after  they  had  outraged  women.    It  was 


THE   SACK   CONTINUES  363 

impossible  to  listen.  He  said  that  our  own  inhuman 
soldiery  had  invited  him  to  stay  and  see.  Yet  although 
I  swore  at  the  man  and  told  him  to  go  away,  I  could  not 
drive  him  from  me.  He  wanted  to  talk  and  he  had 
found  some  one  who  had  to  listen.  Indeed,  he  clung 
to  me  all  the  way  home,  as  if  he  had  been  at  length 
frightened  by  his  own  stories  and  by  his  imagination. 
Steadily  he  became  more  and  more  curious.  He  watched 
me  eat,  he  watched  me  drink,  but  he  would  take  nothing 
himself.  He  wanted  to  go  out  again.  He  must  have 
movement,  he  said,  and  he  insisted  on  riding  to  Mon- 

seigneur  F 's  Pei-t'ang  Cathedral.   He  had  not  been 

there  yet,  and  a  curiosity  suddenly  seized  him  to  see  the 
place  where  others  had  suffered  in  the  same  way  as 
ourselves.  That  reminded  me,  too,  that  everybody  had 
almost  forgotten  about  this  Roman  Catholic  cathedral, 
forgotten  completely  because  they  were  now  at  their 
ease.  It  had  been  two  whole  days  before  troops  were 
even  sent  there  to  see  that  all  was  well,  and  even  these 
only  went  because  a  priest  had  been  killed  half  way  be- 
tween the  Legations  and  the  Cathedral.  I  decided  to 
go,  too.  It  was  almost  a  duty  to  make  this  pilgrimage. 
So  we  quickly  left  again. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  leaving  the  occupied  area  we 
threaded  streets  with  men  from  the  relief  columns  in  full 
view,  but  soon  enough  we  found  ourselves  in  treacherous 
roadways,  all  littered  with  the  ruins  and  the  inexpressible 
confusion  which  come  of  desultory  street-fighting  spread 
over  long  weeks.  To  me  this  was  a  new  quarter — one 
which  I  had  not  been  near  since  the  month  of  May,  and 
soon  it  was  equally  clear  that  it  was  still  a  very  evil 
place.  Only  yesterday  men  who  had  broken  away  from 
the  French  corps  were  found  here,  some  dead  and  some 


364         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

horribly  mutilated.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  the  same  signs 
of  mock  friendliness  greeted  our  eyes  on  every  side — 
those  fluttering  little  flags  of  all  nations,  so  rudely  made 
from  whatever  cloth  had  been  handy.  Every  building  dis- 
played some  flag — every  single  one ;  but  there  now  were 
other  signs,  too — signs  which  showed  that  all  this  quar- 
ter had  been  picked  so  clean  that  it  was  of  no  more  value 
to  marauders.  Little  notices,  some  in  French,  some  in 
English,  and  a  few  in  other  tongues,  were  scratched 
on  the  walls  or  written  on  dirty  scraps  of  paper  and 
nailed  up.  Half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  these  curi- 
ous notices  said  all  manner  of  things.  For  the  wretched 
people  who  had  been  plundered  or  otherwise  ill  used  had 
already  fallen  into  the  habit  of  asking  from  the  soldiery 
for  some  scrap  of  writing  which  would  prove  that  they 
had  contributed  their  quota,  and  might,  therefore,  be 
exempted  from  further  looting.  Scrawled  in  soldiers' 
hands  were  such  things  as,  "Defense  absolue  de  piller; 
nous  autres  avons  tout  pris" ;  or,  "No  looting  permitted. 
This  show  is  cleaned  out."  Everywhere  these  signs 
were  to  be  seen.  Here  they  must  have  worked  fast  and 
furiously.  .    .    . 

Riding  quickly,  at  last  we  reached  the  famous  cathedral, 
with  great  trenches  and  earthworks  surrounding  it,  and 
the  torn  and  battered  buildings  showing  how  bitter  the 
struggle  had  been.  To  our  siege-taught  eyes  a  single 
look  explained  the  nature  of  the  defence,  and  the  lines 
which  had  been  naturally  formed.  It  was  written  as 
plain  as  on  a  map.  The  priests  and  their  allies  had  now 
hauled  the  enemy's  abandoned  guns  to  the  cathedral 
entrances  and  the  spires  were  now  crowned  with  gar- 
lands of  flags  of  all  nations.  But  that  was  all.  There 
was  no  one  to  be  seen.    Everybody  was  away,  out  mind- 


THE    SACK    CONTINUES  365 

ing  the  new  business — that  of  making  good  the  damage 
done  by  levying  contributions  on  the  city  at  large.  It 
was  all  dead  quiet,  silent  like  some  deserted  graveyard. 
The  sailors  and  the  priests  and  their  converts,  remember- 
ing that  Heaven  helps  those  who  help  themselves,  had 
sallied  out  and  were  reprovisioning  themselves  and  mak- 
ing good  their  losses.  Indeed,  the  only  men  we  could 
find  were  some  converts  engaged  in  stacking  up  silver 
shoes,  or  sycee,  in  a  secluded  quadrangle.  These  had 
become  the  property  of  the  mission  by  the  divine  right 
of  capture;  there  seemed  at  the  moment  nothing  strange 
about  it. 

This  silent  cathedral,  with  its  vast  grounds  and  its 
deserted  quadrangles  torn  up  by  the  savage  conflict,  be- 
came to  us  curiously  oppressive — almost  ghostlike  in  the 
bright  sunshine.  It  seemed  absurd  to  imagine  that  forty 
or  fifty  rifle-armed  sailors,  a  band  of  priests  and  many 
thousands  of  converts  had  been  ringed  in  here  by  fire 
and  smoke  for  weeks,  and  had  lost  dozens  and  hundreds 
at  a  time  through  mine  explosions.  It  seemed,  also, 
equally  absurd  that  the  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  men 
who  had  poured  into  Peking  had  already  become  so 
quickly  lost  in  the  expanses  of  the  city.  Where  were 
they  all?  .    .    . 

My  mad  companion  had  tired,  too,  of  looking,  and 
wanted  again  to  rush  off  and  discover  some  signs  of  life. 
He  wanted,  above  all,  to  see  the  place  where  the  first 
companies  of  the  French  infantry  had  suddenly  come  on 
a  mixed  crowd  of  Boxers,  soldiers  and  townspeople  flee- 
ing in  panic  all  mixed  together,  and  had  mown  them 
down  with  mitrailleuses.  There  was  a  cul-de-sac,  which 
was  horrible,  it  was  reported.  The  machine-guns  had 
played  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  in  that  death-trap  with- 


366         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

out  stopping  a  second  until  nothing  had  moved.  The  in- 
cident was  only  a  day  or  two  old,  yet  every  one  had 
heard  of  it.  People  exclaimed  that  this  was  going  too 
far  in  the  matter  of  vengeance.  But  everything  had 
been  allowed  to  go  too  far.  .   .    . 

We  rode  out  at  a  canter,  and  wondered  more  and  more 
as  we  rode  at  the  solitude,  where  so  few  hours  before 
there  had  been  such  a  deafening  roar.  We  plunged 
straight  into  the  maze  of  narrow  streets,  and  then  sud- 
denly, before  we  were  aware  of  it,  our  mounts  were 
swerving  and  snorting  in  mad  terror!  For  corpses 
dotted  the  ground  in  ugly  blotches,  the  corpses  of  men 
who  had  met  death  in  a  dozen  different  ways.  Lying  in 
exhausted  attitudes,  they  covered  the  roadway  as  if  they 
had  been  merely  tired  to  death.  It  was  awful,  and  I 
began  to  have  a  terrible  detestation  for  these  Asiatic 
faces,  which,  because  they  are  dead,  become  such  a  hide- 
ous green-yellow-white,  and  whose  bodies  seem  to  shrivel 
to  nothing  in  their  limp  blue  suitings.  Such  dead  are  an 
insult  to  the  living. 

We  picked  our  way  on  our  trembling  mounts,  trying 
vainly  to  push  through  quickly  to  escape  it  all.  But  it 
was  no  good.  We  had  stumbled  by  chance  on  the  actual 
route  taken  by  an  avenging  column,  and  the  men  who 
had  been  mad  with  lust  to  loot  the  Palace,  and  had  been 
turned  off  almost  as  an  afterthought  to  relieve  co- 
religionists, had  vented  their  wrath  on  everything.  The 
farther  and  farther  we  penetrated  the  more  hideous  did 
the  ruins  and  the  corpses  become.  There  was  nothing 
but  silence  once  again — death,  ruin,  and  silence;  and  at 
last  we  came  on  such  a  mountain  of  corpses  that  our 
ponies  suddenly  stampeded  and  went  madly  careering 
away.    Frightened  more  and  more  by  the  sound  of  their 


THE   SACK   CONTINUES  367 

galloping  hoofs,  the  animals  soon  laid  their  legs  to  the 
ground  and  bolted  blindly.  Vainly  we  tugged  at  our 
bridles ;  vainly  we  tried  every  device  to  bring  them  to  a 
halt.  But  again  it  was  no  good.  It  had  become  a  sort 
of  mad  gallop  of  death;  the  animals  had  to  be  allowed 
to  rid  themselves  of  their  feelings. 

Eventually  we  pulled  up  far  away  to  the  west  of  where 
we  had  started.  We  were  now  near  the  districts  which 
had  only  the  day  before  been  proclaimed  highly  danger- 
ous to  every  one  until  clearing  operations  had  swept  them 
clean  of  lurking  Boxers  or  disbanded  soldiery.  But  now 
attracted  by  a  roar  of  flames,  and  indifferent  to  any  dan- 
gers which  might  lurk  near  by,  we  followed  up  the  trail 
of  smoke  hanging  on  the  skies  to  see  what  was  taking 
place.  One's  interest  never  ceased,  yet  it  was  only  the 
same  thing.  French  soldiers,  some  drunk  and  some 
merely  savage,  had  found  their  way  here  by  some 
strange  fate,  and  being  quite  alone  had  evidently  looted 
and  then  set  fire  to  a  big  pile  of  buildings.  They  were 
discharging  their  rifles,  too;  for  as  we  approached,  bul- 
lets whistled  overhead,  and  sobbing  townspeople,  driven 
from  their  hiding-places,  began  rushing  away  in  every 
direction.    This  was  strange. 

Our  arrival  was  only  the  signal  for  a  fresh  discharge 
of  rifles,  and  then  there  was  no  doubt  who  was  attract- 
ing the  fire.  The  men  were  deliberately  aiming  at  us  to 
drive  us  away !  We  halted  behind  cover,  and  then  with 
the  same  callousness  as  they  displayed,  we  gave  them  a 
volley  back,  as  a  note  of  warning.  It  was  my  insane 
companion  who  drove  us  to  do  that;  but,  forthwith,  on 
the  sound  of  that  well-knit  discharge,  there  was  more 
firing  on  every  side,  some  shots  coming  from  houses  quite 
close  to  us  and  some  from  the  open  streets.     With  the 


368  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

growing  roar  and  crackle  of  the  flames  these  shots  made 
very  insignificant  popping  and  attracted  but  little  atten- 
tion. Yet  I  soon  saw  that  this  continuous  firing  could  not 
come  from  the  rifles  of  European  soldiery,  unless  there 
were  whole  companies  of  them,  and  that  perhaps  we  had 
been  mistaken  for  other  people.  And  soon  my  sus- 
picions were  confirmed  by  a  confused  shouting  in  the 
vernacular,  and  a  rush  of  men  from  lanes  not  a  hundred 
yards  away.  Then  there  were  some  half-suppressed 
blasts  on  the  hideous  Chinese  trumpet  and — Chinese 
soldiery.  .   .   . 

They  came  out  with  a  mad  rush  and  charged  straight 
at  the  drunken  French  marauders,  firing  quickly  as  they 
ran  after  the  old  manner  which  we  knew  so  well.  As  we 
gazed,  the  men  from  the  relief  columns  fell  back  in 
disorder  without  any  hesitation — indeed,  fled  madly  to 
the  nearest  houses  and  began  pelting  their  assailants  with 
lead  in  return.  Suppressed  trumpet-blasts  came  again, 
rallying  the  attackers;  more  and  more  men  rushed  out 
from  all  sorts  of  places,  and  as  this  was  no  affair  of  ours, 
and  our  retreat  would  certainly  be  cut  off  if  we  dallied, 
we  retreated  at  full  gallop  farther  and  farther  to  the 
west.  We  were  going  straight  away  to  where  might  be 
our  damnation. 

I  do  not  remember  clearly  how  far  we  rode,  or  why  we 
galloped,  but  soon  we  arrived  almost  at  the  flanking 
city  walls  miles  away,  and  found  ourselves  among  scores 
and  hundreds  of  the  enemy,  who  were  still  lurking  on 
the  streets,  half  disguised  and  mixed  with  the  towns- 
people. They  fired  at  us  as  we  rode;  they  fired  at  us 
when  we  stopped;  for  many  minutes  there  was  nothing 
to  be  heard  but  the  hissing  of  lead  and  fierce  yells.  .   .    . 

Conscious  that  only  a  big  effort  would  pull  us  through, 


THE   SACK    CONTINUES  369 

we  boldly  turned  bridle  and  galloped  to  the  south — 
reached  a  city  gate,  went  through  at  a  frantic  pace,  and 
sought  safety  in  the  outer  Chinese  town.  Here  it  was 
quieter  for  a  time,  but  as  once  more  we  approached  the 
central  streets,  down  which  the  Allies  had  marched,  we 
came  across  other  marauders.  This  time  they  were 
Indian  troops  going  about  in  bands,  with  only  their  side 
arms  with  them,  but  leaving  the  same  destruction  behind 
them.  Then  we  came  across  Americans,  again  some 
French,  then  some  Germans,  until  it  became  an  endless 
procession  of  looting  men — conquerors  and  conquered 
mixed  and  indifferent.  .   .   . 

It  was  eight  at  night  before  I  pulled  up  on  my  foun- 
dered mount  at  home.  I  confess  I  had  had  enough.  We 
were  dead  with  fatigue.  This  was  too  much  after  one 
had  those  weeks  of  siege. 


IV 

CHAOS 

August,  1900. 


The  refugee  columns  have  gone  at  last,  and  have  got 
down  safely  to  the  boats  at  Tungchow,  which  is  fifteen 
miles  away,  and  in  direct  water  communication  with 
Tientsin.  It  is  good  that  nearly  all  the  women  and 
children  and  the  sick  have  been  packed  off.  This  is,  in- 
deed, no  place  for  them.  An  Indian  regiment  sent  a 
band,  which  played  the  endless  columns  of  carts,  sedan 
chairs,  and  stretchers  out  along  the  sands  under  the 
Tartar  Wall,  until  they  were  well  on  their  way.  That 
made  every  one  break  down  a  little  and  realise  what  it 
has  been.  They  say  it  was  like  India  during  the  Mutiny, 
and  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  have  a  dry  eye; 
Even  the  native  troops,  rich  in  traditions  and  stories  of 
such  times,  understood  the  curious  significance  of  it  all. 
They  talked  a  great  deal  and  told  their  officers  that  it 
was  the  same. 

Thus,  winding  away  over  the  sands  and  through  the 
dust,  the  only  raison  d'etre  of  this  great  relief  expedition 
has  passed  away.  Probably  a  conviction  of  this  is  why 
the  situation  in  Peking  itself  shows  no  signs  of  improv- 
ing. Some  say  that  it  has  become  rather  worse,  in  a 
subtle,  secret  way.  More  troops  have  marched  in, 
masses  of  German  troops  and  French  infantry  of  the 
line,  and  columns  of  Russians  are  already  moving  out, 


CHAOS  371 

bound  for  places  no  one  can  ascertain.  Nothing  but 
moving  men  on  the  great  roads. 

It  is  the  newly  arrived  who  cause  the  most  trouble. 
Furious  to  find  that  those  who  came  with  the  first  col- 
umns have  all  feathered  their  nests  and  satisfied  every 
desire,  they  are  trying  to  make  up  for  lost  time  by 
stripping  even  the  meanest  streets  of  the  valueless  things 
which  remain.  They  say,  too,  now,  that  punitive  expe- 
ditions are  to  be  organised  and  pushed  all  over  North 
China,  because  these  new  troops,  which  have  come  from 
so  far,  must  be  given  something  to  do,  and  cannot  be 
allowed  to  settle  down  in  mere  idleness  until  something 
turns  up,  which  will  alter  the  present  irresolution  and 
confusion.  .    .    . 

But  for  the  time  being  there  is  little  else  but  quiet  loot- 
ing. Even  some  of  the  Ministers  have  made  little  for- 
tunes from  so-called  official  seizures,  and  there  is  one 
curious  case,  which  nobody  quite  understands,  of  forty 
thousand  taels  in  silver  shoes  being  suddenly  deposited 
in  the  French  Legation,  and  as  suddenly  spirited  away 
by  some  one  else  to  another  Legation,  while  no  one  dares 
openly  to  say  who  are  the  culprits,  although  their  names 
are  known.  Silver,  however,  is  a  drug  in  the  market. 
Everybody,  without  exception,  has  piles  of  it.  Also, 
the  Japanese,  who  are  supposed  to  be  on  their  good 
conduct,  have  despoiled  the  whole  Board  of  Revenue 
and  taken  over  a  million  pounds  sterling  in  bullion. 
They  have  been  most  cunning.  The  only  currency  to 
be  had  is  the  silver  shoe.  These  shoes  can  be  bought  at 
an  enormous  discount  for  gold  in  any  form,  and  even 
with  silver  dollars  you  can  make  a  pretty  profit.  The 
new  troops,  who  have  arrived  too  late,  are  doing  their 
best  to  find  some  more  of  this  silver  by  digging  up  gar- 


372         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

dens  and  breaking  down  houses.     Marchese  P ,  of 

the  Italians,  who  always  pretends  that  he  has  been  a  min- 
ing engineer  in  some  prehistoric  period  of  his  existence, 
calls  it  "working  over  the  tailings." 

In  consequence  of  this  glut  of  silver  and  curiosities,  a 
regular  buying  and  selling  has  set  up,  and  all  our  armies 
are  becoming  armies  of  traders.  There  are  official 
auctions  now  being  organised,  where  you  will  be  able  to 
buy  legally,  and  after  the  approved  methods,  every  kind 
of  loot.  The  best  things,  however,  are  being  disposed 
of  privately,  for  it  is  the  rank  and  file  who  have  man- 
aged to  secure  the  really  priceless  things.  I  heard  to-day 
that  an  amateur  who  came  up  with  one  of  the  columns 
bought  from  an  American  soldier  the  Grand  Cross  of 
the  Prussian  Order  of  the  Black  Eagle,  set  in  magnifi- 
cent diamonds,  for  the  sum  of  twenty  dollars.  It  seems 
only  the  other  day  that  Prince  Henry  was  here  for  the 
special  purpose  of  donating  this  mark  of  the  personal 
esteem  of  the  Kaiser  after  the  Kiaochow  affair.  Twenty 
dollars — it  is  an  inglorious  end ! 

The  native  troops  from  India,  seeing  all  these  strange 
scenes  around  them,  and  quickly  contaminated  by  the 
force  of  bad  example,  are  most  curious  to  watch.  When 
they  are  off  duty  they  now  select  a  good  corner  along  the 
beaten  tracks  where  people  can  travel  in  safety,  squat 
down  on  their  heels,  spread  a  piece  of  cloth,  and  display 
thereon  all  the  lumps  of  silver,  porcelain  bowls,  vases 
and  other  things  which  they  have  managed  to  capture. 
You  can  sometimes  see  whole  rows  of  them  thus  en- 
gaged. The  Chinese  Mohammedans,  of  whom  there 
are  in  normal  times  many  thousands  in  Peking,  have 
found  that  they  can  venture  forth  in  safety  in  all  the 
districts  occupied  by  Indian  troops  once  they  put  on  tur- 


CHAOS  373 

bans  to  show  that  they  are  followers  of  Islam ;  and  now 
they  may  be  seen  in  bands  every  day,  with  white  and 
blue  cloths  swathed  round  their  heads  in  imitation  of 
those  they  see  on  the  heads  of  their  fellow-religionists, 
going  to  fraternise  with  all  the  Mussulmans  of  the 
Indian  Army.  It  is  these  Chinese  Mohammedans  who 
now  largely  serve  as  intermediaries  between  the  popu- 
lation and  the  occupation  troops.  They  are  buying  back 
immense  quantities  of  the  silver  and  silks  in  exchange  for 
foodstuffs  and  other  things.  A  number  of  streets  are 
now  safe  as  long  as  it  is  light,  and  along  these  people 
are  beginning  to  move  with  more  and  more  freedom. 
But  as  soon  as  it  is  dark  the  uproar  begins  again.  The 
Chinese  have  had  time  now,  however,  to  hide  all  the  val- 
uables that  have  been  left  them.  Everything  is  being 
buried  as  quickly  as  possible  in  deep  holes,  and  search 
parties  now  go  out  armed  with  spades  and  picks,  and 
try  to  purchase  informers  by  promising  a  goodly  share 
of  all  finds  made.  It  is  really  an  extraordinary  con- 
dition. .   .  . 


SETTLING   DOWN 

End  of  August,  1900. 

It  shows  how  little  is  still  generally  known  of  what 
is  going  on  in  our  very  midst,  and  how  disordered  things 
really  are,  when  I  say  that  I  only  learned  to-day  that  the 
whole  city — in  fact,  every  part  of  it — has  been  duly 
divided  up  some  time  ago  by  the  Allied  Commanders 
into  districts — one  district  being  assigned  to  every  Power 
of  importance  that  has  brought  up  troops.  They  are 
trying  to  organise  military  patrols  and  a  system  of  police 
to  stop  the  looting,  which  shows  no  signs  of  abating. 
Everybody  is  crazy  now  to  get  more  loot.  Every  new 
man  says  that  he  only  wants  a  few  trifles,  but  as  soon  as 
he  has  a  few  he  must,  of  course,  have  more,  and  thus 
the  ball  continues  rolling  indefinitely.  ,  .  .  Nothing 
will  stop  it. 

Yesterday,  just  as  a  man  of  the  British  Legation  was 
telling  me  that  the  system  was  really  all  right,  that  it 
was,  in  fact,  a  working  system  which  would  soon  be  pro- 
ductive of  results,  and  that  the  bad  part  was  over,  a  huge 
Russian  convoy  debouched  into  the  street  where  we  were 
standing.  It  was  a  curious  mixture  of  green-painted 
Russian  army-waggons  and  captured  Chinese  country 
carts,  and  every  vehicle  was  loaded  to  its  maximum 
capacity  with  loot.  The  convoy  had  come  in  from  the 
direction  of  the  Summer  Palace,  and  was  accompanied 


SETTLING    DOWN  375 

by  such  a  small  escort  of  infantrymen  that  I  should  not 
have  cared  to  insure  them  against  counter-attacks  on  the 
road  from  any  marauders  who  might  have  seen  them  in 
a  quiet  spot.  A  dozen  mounted  men  of  resolution  could 
have  cut  them  up. 

The  carts  lumbered  along,  however,  indifferent  to 
every  danger,  in  their  careless  disorder.  Their  drivers 
were  half  asleep,  and  things  kept  on  dropping  to  the 
ground  and  being  smashed  to  atoms.  Just  near  us  the 
ropes  stretched  round  one  cart  became  loosened  by  the 
rocking  and  bumping  occasioned  by  the  vile  road,  and 
the  contents,  no  longer  held  in  place,  began  spilling  to 
the  ground.  As  soon  as  he  had  seen  this,  the  Russian 
soldier-driver  became  furious.  He  would  have  had  to 
do  a  lot  of  work  to  repack  his  load  properly,  so  he  soon 
thought  of  a  shorter  and  easier  way:  he  began  deliber- 
ately throwing  overboard  his  overload !  Three  beau- 
tiful porcelain  vases  of  enormous  size  and  priceless  value 
suffered  this  fate;  then  some  bulky  pieces  of  jade  carved 

in  the  form  of  curious  animals.     C tried  to  stop 

the  man,  but  I  only  smiled  grimly.  What  did  it  matter? 
In  Prince  Tiian's  Palace  I  had  seen,  a  couple  of  days 
before,  the  incredible  sight  of  thousands  of  pieces  of 
porcelain  and  baskets  full  of  wonderful  objets  de  vertu 
smashed  into  ten  thousand  atoms  by  the  soldiery  who 
had  first  forced  their  way  there.  They  only  wanted  bul- 
lion. Porcelain  painted  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rain- 
bow, and  worth  anything  on  the  European  markets — 
what  did  that  mean  to  them ! 

The  convoy  at  last  bumped  away,  leaving  merely  a 
long  trail  of  dust  behind  it  and  those  fragments  on  the 
ground,  and  C became  silent  and  then  left  me  sud- 
denly.    Perhaps  the  idea  had  finally   entered  his  re- 


37G         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

spectable  British  head  that  we  had  become  grotesque  and 
out  of  date,  and  that  we  should  retreat  and  make  room 
for  other  men.  Nobody  cares  for  anybody  else.  Only  a 
few  hours  before  a  reliable  story  had  been  going  the 
rounds  that  some  Indian  infantry  had  opened  fire  on  a 
Russian  detachment  in  the  country  just  beyond  the  Chi- 
nese city,  pleading  that  it  v/as  a  mistake.  How  could 
it  have  been  ?  There  is  only  one  really  sensible  thing  to 
do,  and  now  it  is  too  late  to  do  that:  to  set  fire  to  the 
whole  city  and  then  retreat,  as  Napoleon  did  from  Mos- 
cow. The  road  to  the  sea  is  too  short  and  the  winter  too 
far  off  for  any  harm  to  come. 

The  first  cables  have  at  length  come  through  in  batches 
from  Europe,  by  way  of  the  field  telegraphs,  which  are 
now  working  smoothly  and  well.  Everybody  of  impor- 
tance is  being  transferred,  but  it  is  impossible  to  find  out 
where  they  are  all  going.  All  the  Ministers  now  pre- 
tend that  they  had  asked  for  transfers  before  the  siege 
actually  began,  and  that  they  will  be  heartily  glad  to  go 
away  and  forget  that  such  a  horrible  place  as  Peking 
exists.  Yet  from  the  nervousness  of  those  who  have 
been  told  to  report  for  orders  in  Europe,  it  cannot  be  all 
joy. 


VI 

THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT 

August,  1900. 


Fortunately  my  friend  K ,  of  the  Russian  Lega- 
tion, rescued  me  at  a  moment  when  I  was  prepared  only 
to  moralise  on  this  infernal  situation,  and  to  see  nothing 
but  evil  in  everything  both  around  me  and  in  myself.  I 
like  to  put  it  all  down  to  the  strange  stupor  and  lack  of 
energy  which  have  settled  down  on  everything  like  a 
blight,  but  I  believe,  also,  that  there  must  be  a  little  bit 

of  remorse  at  the  bottom  of  my  feelings.     K came 

in  gaily  enough,  pretending  that  he  was  looking  for  a 
breakfast  and  had  learned  of  my  retreat  by  mere 
chance  as  he  rode  by.  He  had  heard,  I  believe,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  that  there  were  a  number  of  women  on 
the  premises,  and  that  I  was  living  en  prince.  Perhaps 
he  had  a  number  of  reasons  for  coming.  From  what  he 
told  me,  however,  it  soon  appeared  that  he  had  known 

L ,  the  commander  of  the   Russian   columns,   for 

many  years,  and  had  just  done  business  with  him;  and 
that,  in  consequence,  the  Russian  commander,  who  is  a 
pleasant  old  fellow,  risen  from  the  ranks,  had  said  that 
he  could  have  a  private  view  of  the  Palace  if  he  swore 
on  his  honour  that  he  would  not  divulge  the  excursion 
to  any  one.  He  must,  also,  not  take  anything.  He  did 
not  tell  me  all  at  first.  It  came  out  bit  by  bit,  after  I 
had  been  sounded  on  a  number  of  points.     Then  he 


378         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  come,  and  if  I,  too,  would 
swear. 

Of  course,  I  duly  swore ! 

Eventually  we  started  on  our  long  ride;  for  it  was 
necessary  for  us  to  go  right  round  the  Imperial  city, 
skirting  the  pink  walls  so  as  not  to  become  involved  in 
other  people's  territory,  or  to  be  noticed  too  much.  That 

was  one  of  the  preliminary  precautions,    K said. 

All  the  way  round,  that  ride  was  a  beautiful  illustration 
of  the  way  the  International  Concert  (written  with  capi- 
tal letters)  is  now  working.  At  absolutely  every  en- 
trance into  the  Imperial  city  there  were  troops  of  one 
nationality  or  another:  American,  British,  French,  Ger- 
man, Japanese,  and  others — all  looking  jealously  at 
every  passer-by,  and  holding  so  tight  to  their  precious 
gates,  that  it  appeared  as  if  all  the  world  was  conspiring 
to  wrest  them  from  their  grasp.  They  thought,  per- 
haps, that  this  Palace  is  the  magic  wand  which  touches 
all  China  and  can  produce  any  results;  that  both  in  the 
immediate  and  dim  future  the  obtaining  of  a  good  foot- 
hold here  will  mean  an  immense  amount  to  their  re- 
spective countries.  What  fatuous,  immense  foolishness ! 
For  a  moment,  as  I  looked  at  these  guards,  I  had  the 
insane  desire  to  charge  suddenly  forward  and  call  upon 
the  French,  in  the  name  of  their  dear  Ally,  Czar  Nicho- 
las, to  hand  me  their  gate,  or  else  take  the  consequences; 
to  do  the  same  to  the  others;  to  mix  them  up  and  confuse 
them;  to  tell  them  that  a  new  war  had  been  declared; 
that  they  would  soon  have  to  fight  for  their  lives  against 
formidable  foes — to  tell  them  mad  things  and  to  add  to 
the  rumours  which  already  fill  the  air.  These  troops, 
which  had  been  hurled  on  Peking  in  frantic  haste,  had 
only  come  because  it  was  a  matter  of  jealousy — that  was 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  379 

now  clear  to  me.  They  themselves  did  not  know  why 
they  had  come,  or  with  whom  they  were  fighting,  or  why 
they  were  fighting.  They  knew  nothing  and  cared  less. 
And  yet  it  does  not  much  matter.  It  is  not  really  they 
who  are  to  blame,  nor  even  their  officers.  I  know  full 
well  how  instructions  are  issued  and  how  little  the 
pawns  really  count.  .  .  .  The  despatches  from  the 
Chancelleries  of  Europe,  how  grotesque  they  can  be! 
Everybody  is  aways  so  afraid  of  everybody  'else. 

Yet  while  I  was  thinking  these  things,   K was 

not.      He  was  secretly  worried,    as  he  rode,   whether 

L 's  promise  would  materialise,   or  whether  there 

would  be  another  impasse.  Somehow  I  felt  certain  that 
there  would  be  more  difficulties,  in  spite  of  all  assur- 
ances. Ce  n'est  pas  pour  rien  qit'on  connait  les  Russes, 
as  C ,  our  old  doyen,  always  says.  .   .    . 

We  passed  at  length  into  the  Imperial  city  by  the  north- 
ern entrances,  far  away  from  everybody  else,  and  found 
ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a  big  Russian  encampment, 
with  rows  upon  rows  of  guns  ranged  in  regular  forma- 
tion and  lots  of  tents  and  horses.  All  the  soldiery  here 
were  taking  it  very  easy  on  this  sunny  day;  had,  indeed, 
stripped  themselves,  and  were  now  engaged  in  sluicing 
themselves  over  with  ice-cold  water  from  a  beautiful 
marble-enclosed  canal.  These  hundreds  upon  hundreds 
of  clean  white  men,  with  their  flaxen  hair  and  their  blue 
eyes,  seemed  so  strange  and  out  of  place  in  this  semi- 
barbaric  Palace  and  so  indifferent.  How  curious  it  was 
to  think  that  only  a  few  days  ago  the  Empress  and  all 
her  cortege  had  passed  here ! 

We  sought  out  the  post  commander  and  told  him  our 
purpose.  The  difficulties  began  quickly  enough  then,  as 
I  had  anticipated.    The  officer  explained  to  us  that  our 


380         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

request  was  out  of  order  and  impossible ;  that  no  one  was 
allowed  inside  the  inner  precincts  or  had  ever  been  there; 

and  hinted,  incidentally,  that  we  must  be  mad.    K 

listened  to  all  this  in  that  insulting  silence  which  is  a  sure 
sign  of  gentility,  and  then,  ransacking  his  pockets, 
brought  out  a  letter  and  handed  it  to  our  man.  That 
produced  a  change  which  might  have  been  highly  amus- 
ing at  other  times.  There  was  the  complete  volte-face 
which  amuses.  The  officer  suddenly  saluted,  clicked  his 
heels,  and  said  in  a  silky  way,  like  a  cat  which  has  tasted 
milk,  that  this  order  was  explicit  and  made  things  differ- 
ent; that,  indeed,  we  might  go  at  once  if  we  liked,  only 
we  must  be  discreet — highly  discreet.  He  would  accom- 
pany us  himself.  Such  trivial  details  were  soon  arranged. 

We  left  our  ponies  and  our  outriders  then  and  marched 
forward  quickly  on  foot.  The  soldiery  around  us  stared 
and  laughed  among  themselves  as  soon  as  they  saw 
where  we  were  going.  This  made  me  understand  that 
this  excursion  had  been  taken  before,  probably  under  the 
same  orders  and  in  exactly  the  same  way.     It  was  only 

a  well-rehearsed  comedy.     K ,  who  is  really  a  bit 

of  a  coward,  did  not  appear  to  relish  the  comments 
made,  and  now  became  suddenly  reluctant.  He  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  had  overheard  the  men  saying  that 
we  might  be  killed  inside,  as  there  were  many  people 
there.     So  in  silence  we  all  marched  on. 

The  first  gate  we  reached  was  a  beautiful  example  of 
the  art  of  this  Northern  country.  There  were  splendid 
pillars  of  teak,  marble  tigers  and  marble  fretwork  be- 
neath, with  much  glittering  colouring  around.  A  strong 
post  of  Russian  infantry  was  on  guard  here,  and  sitting 
inside  the  enclosure  with  the  men  off  duty  were  a  number 
of  Palace  eunuchs.     They  all  seemed  quite  intimate 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  381 

together  and  were  chaffing  one  another — soldiers  and 
eunuchs  laughing  heartily  at  some  coarse  jest. 

We  wended  our  way  through  a  marble  courtyard, 
which  wore  a  rather  deserted  and  forlorn  look,  and 
which  had  huge  low-lying  halls  and  dwellings  for  the 
Palace  servants  ranged  on  either  side.  These  appeared 
to  be  all  deserted  now,  but  at  regular  intervals  were 
Russian  sentries  standing  up  on  lookout  platforms. 
They  were  peering  over  the  walls  in  every  direction,  and 
seemed  to  be  keeping  a  very  sharp  lookout.  The  officer 
said  that  many  guards  of  other  nationalities  were  well 
within  rifle-shot  from  here,  and  that  men  were  con- 
tinually trying  to  steal  their  way  right  into  the  inner 
Palace  by  scaling  the  walls.     He  called  them  robbers  1 

The  next  gate  was  much  smaller,  and  showed  from  its 
very  appearance  that  we  were  nearing  the  actual 
Palaces — the  hidden,  mysterious  abodes  of  the  Tartar 
rulers  who  had  so  ignominiously  fled.  Here  the  sentries 
had  the  strictest  orders,  for,  stopping  us  short  with  their 
lowered  bayonet  points,  they  looked  askance  at  us,  and 
politely  asked  the  officer  who  we  were  and  why  we  had 
ventured  here.  In  the  end,  to  set  their  minds  at  ease, 
he  had  to  tear  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-book,  write  an 
order,  and  make  us  sign  our  names.  Upon  this,  the  non- 
commissioned officer  in  charge  of  this  post  detached  him- 
self and  joined  our  little  party.  We  were  not  going  to 
be  allowed  in  alone,  and  imperceptibly  the  affair  assumed 
a  graver  and  more  consequential  aspect.  Then,  quietly 
advancing,  we  four  were  speedily  lost  in  the  huge  maze 
of  gardens  and  buildings.  The  area  covered  by  the 
Palaces  was  enormous. 

Beyond  this  was  a  succession  of  high,  picturesque-look- 
ing buildings  of  a  curious  Persian-Tartar  appearance, 


382         INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

with  little  galleries  running  round  them,  and  drum- 
shaped  gateways  of  stone  pierced  in  unexpected  places. 
There  were  also  flowering  trees  and  beautiful  groves.  It 
was,  indeed,  charming,  and  over  everything  there  was  a 
refined  coolness  which  to  me  was  something  very  new. 
We  came  on  a  last  sentry,  who,  at  a  word  from  his 
sergeant,  drew  a  heavy  iron  key  from  a  wooden  box 
hanging  on  the  wall  and  fitted  it  to  a  lock.  The  key 
turned  with  a  faint  screeching,  which  seemed  out  of 
place ;  the  little  gate  was  thrust  open  and  closed  behind 
us,  and  ...  at  last  we  were  within  the  sacro-sanct 
courtyards  of  the  rulers  of  the  most  antique  Empire  in 
the  world.    .    .    . 

Around  us  there  was  now  a  curious  and  unnatural  quiet, 
as  if  the  world  was  very  old  here,  and  the  noises  of 
modern  life  remained  abashed  at  the  thresholds.  I  knew 
well  from  a  study  of  the  curious  old  Chinese  maps,  which 
the  vendors  of  Peking  objets  d! art  always  offer  you, 
where  we  were,  and  it  was  almost  with  a  sense  of 
familiarity  that  I  turned  and  made  my  way  to  the  east. 
There  I  knew  in  ordinary  times  the  Empress  Dowager 
herself  lodged  in  a  whole  Palace  to  herself.  Somewhere 
not  very  far  from  us  I  caught  the  soft  cooing  of  the 
doves,  which  every  one  in  Peking,  from  Emperor  to 
shopkeepers,  delights  to  keep,  in  order  to  send  sailing 
aloft  on  balmy  days  with  a  low-singing  whistle  attached 
to  their  wings — a  whistle  which  makes  music  in  the  air 
and  calls  the  other  birds.  Who  has  not  heard  that  pleas- 
ant sound  ?  Even  the  Empress  Dowager  must  have  loved 
it.  Here,  in  her  private  realm,  the  doves  were  cooing, 
cooing,  cooing,  just  like  the  French  word  roucoulement, 
spoken  strongly  with  the  accent  of  Marseilles.  You 
could  hear  these  birds  of  the  Marseilles  accent  saying 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  383 

continually  that  French  word:  Roiicoidement,  roucoule- 
ment,  roucoulement,  with  never  a  break.  .   .    . 

We  ran  up  some  flights  of  marble  steps,  following 
these  gentle  sounds,  and  walked  along  a  broad  terrace 
adorned  with  fantastically  curved  dwarf-trees,  set  in  rich 
porcelain  pots,  and  made  stately  with  enormous  bronze 
braziers.  The  Russian  officer,  and  even  the  Russian 
sergeant,  were  agreeably  stroked  by  the  contact  with  all 
this  quiet  and  seclusion  and  this  old-world  air,  and  they 
murmured  in  sibilant  Russian.  It  pleased  them  im- 
mensely. 

We  hastened  to  the  end  of  the  terrace,  going  quickly, 
because  we  were  anxious  to  find  more  delights;  and  as  we 
turned  at  the  end,  without  any  warning  there  were  a  few 
light  screams  and  a  little  scuffle  of  feet  which  died  away 
rapidly.    Women.  .   .    . 

We  caught  a  disappearing  vision  of  brilliantly  coloured 
silks  and  satins  and  rouged  faces  passing  away  through 
some  doors,  and  then  before  we  had  satisfied  our  eyes, 
several  flabby-faced  men  suddenly  came  out  and  called 
imperatively  to  us  to  stop  and  go  away.  We  could  not 
go  farther,  they  said. 

The  two  men  of  the  Russian  army,  with  the  instinct  of 
discipline  which  we  lacked,  halted  as  if  orders  were  being 

disobeyed,  and  looked  at  K for  inspiration.    K 

stroked  his  thin  moustaches,  and  put  his  head  a  little  on 
one  side,  as  if  he  were  debating  what  to  say.  I — well, 
since  I  had  nothing  to  lose,  and  it  did  not  really  matter, 
I  went  forward  without  any  delay,  asking  our  interlocu- 
tors roughly  what  they  meant  and  what  they  were  doing 
here,  and  telling  them,  too,  that  we  were  going  on.  I 
knew  that  they  were  sexless  eunuchs,  who  would  stammer 
as  I  had  heard  them  stammer  in  the  old  days  when  I  had 


384         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

seen  them  trafficking  things  they  had  been  donated  by 
officials  desirous  of  cultivating  their  friendship,  in  the 
mysterious  curio  shops  beyond  the  great  Ch'ien  Men 
Gate.  Nor  was  I  wrong.  Stammering,  they  replied  by 
asking  how  it  was  that  orders  had  been  broken.  Stam- 
mering, they  said  that  all  the  great  generals  had  prom- 
ised that  the  inner  Palaces  were  to  be  kept  immune;  now 
men  were  for  ever  climbing  in,  and  others  were  coming 
openly  as  we  were  doing.    What  did  we  wish? 

I  am  afraid  I  was  rude,  for  questions  in  these  times  do 
not  sit  well  on  such  folk,  and  I  told  them  more  roughly 
than  ever  to  go  quickly  away,  or  else  we  would  hurt 
them.  Perhaps  we  would  even  hurt  them  badly,  I  in- 
sinuated, fingering  my  revolver,  for  we  had  a  duty  to  do. 
We  were  going  to  inspect  the  entire  Palace  and  see  that 
all  was  well.  And  before  these  men  had  recovered  from 
their  surprise  we  had  pushed  right  into  the  Empress 
Dowager's  own  ante-chambers. 

I  saw,  as  I  walked  in,  that  a  long  avenue  in  the  distance 
led  directly  to  a  high  yellow-walled  enclosure.  That 
must  be  the  Imperial  seraglio,  where  the  hundreds  of 
young  Manchu  women  provided  by  tradition  for  the 
amusement  of  the  Emperor  were  imprisoned  for  life. 
In  the  haste  of  the  Court's  flight,  the  majority  of  them 
had  been  abandoned,  and  only  the  most  valuable  taken 
off.    Everybody  had  heard  of  that. 

Gently  discoursing  to  the  disturbed  eunuchs,  we  went 
through  room  after  room,  which  even  on  the  hot  autumn 
day  seemed  cool  and  peaceful.  The  objets  de  vertu 
which  littered  the  small  tables,  and  the  scrolls  which 
hung  from  the  walls,  did  little  to  relieve  the  sombre 
effect  of  those  high  ceilings  and  carved  wood  frescoes. 
Yet  there  was  a  little  air  of  distinction  and  refinement 


THE    FORBIDDF.N    FRUIT  385 

which  showed  that  an  immeasurable  gulf  separated  the 
favoured  dwellers  of  this  Palace  from  even  the  greatest 
outside.  Even  here  Royalty  does  more  than  oblige;  it 
compels.    .    .    . 

With  the  eunuchs  protesting  more  and  more  vigor- 
ously, and  seeking  to  stay  our  advance  by  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  suggestion  and  imploring  and  resistance  which  is 
a  quality  of  the  East,  we  slowly  passed  through  apart- 
ment after  apartment.  Some  now  were  furnished  with 
luxurious  long  divans  which  eloquently  invited  graceful 
repose.  What  scenes  had  not  this  silent  furniture  wit- 
nessed, and  how  little  could  the  makers  have  supposed, 
as  they  cunningly  carved  and  stained  and  coloured,  that 
barbarians  from  Europe  would  be  one  day  insolently 
gazing  on  their  handiwork!  .    .    . 

I  had  lagged  somewhat  behind,  when  some  curses  and 
imprecations  dragged  my  wandering  attention  to  the 
doors  beyond.  Two  eunuchs  had  fallen  on  their  knees 
and  were  now  kowtowing  and  begging  with  renewed 
vigour,  while  a  third  was  standing  more  resolutely  than 
his  fellows  with  outstretched  arms,  imperatively  forbid- 
ding any  further  advance.  The  most  interesting  point 
had  been  reached;  this  must  be  the  greatest  thing  of  all. 

But  these  eunuchs  were  beginning  to  fatigue  us  with 
their  airs  of  duly  authorised  custodians  who  could  do  as 
they  pleased,  and  going  up,  we  now  told  them  that  un- 
less they  went  quickly  away  we  would  kill  them  then  and 
there.  We  all  drew  our  revolvers,  stood  over  them,  and 
waited  a  minute  or  two.  Then,  as  if  they  had  acted  their 
parts  right  qp  to  the  end,  the  men  on  their  knees  got  up 
suddenly,  shook  themselves,  bowed  to  us  politely  with- 
out a  trace  of  feeling,  and  left.  ..  .,  .  "Enfin,"  said 
K . 


386  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

At  last  we  were  in  this  dear  Empress's  bedroom,  the 
abode  which  shelters  for  such  a  considerable  number  of 
hours  of  every  twenty-four  the  most  powerful  woman  in 
Asia.  We  looked  eagerly.  At  one  side  of  the  room  was 
a  large  bed,  beautifully  adorned  with  embroidered 
hangings;  ranged  round  there  was  a  profusion  of  hand- 
some carved-wood  furniture,  with  European  chairs  up- 
holstered in  a  style  out  of  keeping  with  the  rest;  on  a 
high  stand  there  were  jewelled  clocks  noisily  ticking; 
and  hidden  modestly  in  one  corner  was  nothing  less  than 
a  magnificent  silver  pot  de  chambre.  She  was  here  evi- 
dently very  much  at  her  ease,  the  dear  old  lady.  That 
little  detail  delighted  me.     The  rest  was  rather  banal. 

Sans  ceremonie,  I  seated  myself  on  the  Imperial  bed — 
it  seemed  to  be  the  most  peaceful  act  of  vandalism  I 
could  commit  in  repayment  for  certain  discomforts 
occasioned  by  this  old  lady's  whims  during  eight  weeks 
of  rifle-fire.  And  as  my  recollections  went  back  to  those 
terrible  days,  I  came  down  heavily  as  I  could  on  this 
august  couch.  I  must  confess  that  as  a  bed  it  was  excel- 
lent; the  old  lady  must  have  slept  well  through  it  all, 
while  she  caused  us  our  ceaseless  vigil.  .   .   . 

This  solitude  in  the  most  secluded  of  spots  in  the  whole 
Palace  made  us  more  and  more  inquisitive,   and  soon 

K and   myself  were   hard    at  work,    rummaging 

every  likely  hiding-place. 

Our  escort  watched  our  antics  and  said  nothing.  It 
made  an  odd  enough  little  scene  that,  and  I  liked  to  think 
of  its  incongruity — we  two  sets  of  men,  who  had  not 
known  of  each  other's  existence  an  hour  ago,  now  abso- 
lutely alone  in  this  retreat,  from  whence  the  siege  had 
been  largely  directed. 

K continued  rummaging,  making  an  extraordinary 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  387 

amount  of  noise,  and  exclaiming  to  himself  now  and 
again  as  he  came  across  trifles  which  interested  him. 
Then  I  discovered  a  compote,  or  preserve  made  of  rose- 
leaves,  which  was  so  sweet  and  fragrant  that  we  began 
promptly  eating.  There  were  also  Russian  cigarettes, 
au  bonheur  des  dames,  yet  quite  fit  to  smoke,  and  then 

just  as  we  were  becoming  reasonably  content,  K 

gave  a  tremendous  oath  and  brought  out  something  in 
his  hand.  Then  I  knew  that  he  was  lost — that  there 
would  be  speedy  complications;  it  was  a  Louis  XV. 
painted  watch — his  greatest  weakness.  Peking  is  full 
of  these  watches,  some  genuine  enough  and  many  spuri- 
ous. They  were  made  the  vogue  centuries  ago  by  the 
clever  Jesuit  priests,  when  the  first  disciples  of  Loyola 
to  come  to  China  were  playing  for  kingly  stakes  in  the 
capital  of  Cathay,  and  were  not  ashamed  to  use  any 
means  which  their  ingenuity  might  discover  to  delight 
the  Manchu  rulers  of  that  day.  Many  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful watches  in  France,  with  amorous  paintings  of  the 
most  voluptuous  kind  decorating  the  inside  case,  were 
brought  to  Peking  and  distributed  among  the  high  and 
mighty.  That  set  up  a  fashion  for  such  pretty  things; 
more  and  more  were  brought,  until  Peking  became  a 
storehouse,  stocked  with  this  specialty.  Every  one  even 
to-day  has  an  example  or  two  of  this  art,  if  they  can 
afford  it. 

I  thought  of  these  things  as  I  saw  K trifle  with 

that  watch  and  scrutinise  it  more  and  more  closely.  He 
looked  at  it  for  a  last  time  longingly,  and  then,  without 
a  word,  suddenly  placed  it  in  his  pocket.  That  was  cool. 
But  at  once  the  Russian  officer  started  forward  protest- 
ing ;  we  were  breaking  our  words ;  we  had  begun  looting ; 
he  would  be  forced  to  arrest  us.    As  he  spoke,  the  man 


388         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

became  so  red  and  excited,  that  K ,  who  pretended 

at  first  merely  to  smile  indulgently,  became  more  and 
more  alarmed,  and  finally  replaced  the  watch  without  a 
word.  But  still  he  continued  this  curious  search,  and 
coming  across  other  things,  I  noticed  vaguely  that  he 
seemed  to  be  placing  them  all  together  in  little  collec- 
tions, so  that  he  could  easily  get  at  them  again.  .   .   . 

Then  we  wandered  away  to  other  great  buildings,  and 
we  came  on  a  beautiful  set  of  princely  rooms,  full  of 
ticking  clocks  and  rich  tapestries,  and  with  such  things 
as  solid  gold  bonbonnieres,  studded  with  coarse,  uncut 
stones,  lying  on  the  secretaires  and  small  tables.  These, 
I  believe,  were  the  Emperor's  apartments  in  normal 
times.  There  were  lots  of  beautiful  things  here — vases, 
enamels,  jade,  cloisonne,  and  much  wondrous  porcelain; 
and  although  every  one  had  been  saying  that  Peking  was 
not  as  rich  as  in  i860,  when  those  strings  of  beautiful 
black  pearls  had  been  brought  home  for  the  Empress 
Eugenie,  still  it  was  clear  that  these  Palaces  contained 
a  wealth  undreamed  of  outside.  Indeed,  there  were 
magnificent  things.   .    .    . 

Round  the  corners,  as  we  walked,  we  saw  the  eunuchs 
looking  and  lurking,  and  finally  disappearing  whenever 
they  thought  that  they  were  seen.  There  were  more  of 
them  now,  too,  and,  seeing  us  quite  alone,  they  were 
beginning  to  pluck  up  courage  and  wished  once  more  to 
interfere.  I  thought  for  an  instant  as  I  looked  at  their 
evil  faces  of  tearing  down  some  rich  embroidery  and 
fashioning  from  it  a  sack  just  as  I  had  seen  those  Indian 
troopers  do  so  few  days  before ;  then  of  setting  to  work 
and  piling  everything  I  fancied  into  it  and  making  as  if  I 
intended  to  go  off. 

Yet  such  a  comedy  would  not  be  worth  the  candle;  the 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  389 

officer  and  the  sergeant  would  have  to  go  through  the 
formality  of  arresting  me,  and  the  eunuchs  would  not 
even  be  noticed.  .    .    . 

Engrossed  with  such  thoughts,  and  no  longer  amused 
by  my  surroundings,  I  must  have  forgotten  myself  for  a 
moment  in  a  brown  study;  for  when  I  came  to,  I  was 
surprised  to  find  that  we  four  had  drifted  some  distance 

apart,  and  that  K was  now  whispering  rapidly  to 

the  Russian  officer  alone,  and  that  the  sergeant  was 
standing  far  away,  with  his  back  turned  to  them,  slily 
fingering  the  things  on  the  tables.  Then  the  sergeant 
allowed  his  hand  to  linger  longer  than  was  necessary, 
and,  throwing  a  sharp  look  round  out  of  the  corners  of 
his  eyes,  he  suddenly  thrust  some  object  into  his  pocket. 
He,  too,  had  succumbed !  I  paid  not  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  these  curious  developments,  but  pretended  to  be 
gazing  idly  at  nothing.    Still,  I  kept  my  eyes  on  the  alert. 

K was  manifestly  plotting  for  those  watches;  it 

was  not  my  business — what  did  it  matter  to  me  if  he  took 
everything  there  was? 

The  officer,  whatever  the  arguments,  was  obviously  not 
yet  very  convinced,  nor  very  happy.  He  shook  his  head 
vigorously  again  and  again,  and  protested  in  that  thick 
Russian  undertone,  which  always  seems  to  me  to  explain 
what  Russians  really  are.  Yet  those  thick  tones  were 
becoming  gradually  monotonous  and  less  emphatic,  and 
presently  slower  and  slower,  until  they  stopped  alto- 
gether. Then  K came  towards  me,  and  said  care- 
lessly that  he  supposed  I  wanted  to  wander  around  a 
little  more  on  my  own  account  to  see  what  else  there  was. 
It  was  an  invitation  to  disappear.  Very  well !  I  moved 
off  suddenly  and  sent  the  eunuchs  scurrying  back.  There 
was  a  wish  to  split  up  the  party  for  a  few  minutes  so 


390         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

that  no  one  would  know  what  the  others  were  doing.  I 
knew  I  should  immensely  annoy  the  eunuchs  by  going 
towards  the  women's  quarters.  Well,  I  would  not 
cavil.  .   .   . 

I  walked  rapidly  enough  then  down  that  back  avenue  I 
had  observed  before,  and  looked  neither  behind  me  nor 
to  the  right  or  left.  I  would  go  straight  through  to  the 
end,  Dieu  voidant!  It  would  be  interesting  to  have  the 
unique  experience  of  exploring  the  poor  Emperor's  most 
private  domains.  But  then  I  remembered  that  the 
women  had  screamed  and  run  away  when  they  had 
caught  sight  of  us  in  the  beginning.  Now  they  would 
be  securely  locked  in,  and  it  was  absurd  and  dangerous 
to  think  of  storming  a  gate  by  one's  self.  Farther  and 
farther  I  walked  away  until  I  became  doubtful.   .    .    . 

I  suddenly  became  aware  that  I  was  in  front  of  a  small 
door;  that  the  door  was  ajar;  and  that  an  amused  talking 
and  moving  was  going  on  very  near  with  many  ripples 
of  laughter  rising  clearly  in  the  still  air.  It  seemed  that 
the  fates  were  helping  me  for  some  inscrutable  purpose. 
I  must  discover  that  purpose.  Without  a  quiver  I  boldly 
walked  in. 

I  came  on  them  without  any  sense  of  emotion,  although 
nothing  could  have  been  so  novel — a  number  of  groups 
of  young  Manchu  women,  some  clothed  in  beautiful 
robes,  some  in  an  undress  which  was  hardly  maidenly. 
They  were  sitting  and  standing  scattered  round  a  large 
courtyard,  and  hidden  somewhere  above  them  in  the 
yellow  tiled  roofs  were  more  of  those  cooing  doves  with 
that  strong  accent  of  Marseilles:  "Roucoulement,  rou- 
coidement,  roucoulement"  they  said  very  gently  this 
time,  yet  without  ever  ceasing.  Their  soft  voices  made 
beautiful  music.  .    .   . 


THE   FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  391 

For  some  reason  none  of  the  harem  were  surprised. 
Two  or  three  of  the  younger  women  ran  back  a  step 
or  two,  and  clasped  the  hands  of  the  others  with  broken 
ejaculations.  Then  they  all  sought  my  eyes,  and  some- 
how we  began  smiling  at  one  another.  All  women  are 
the  same;  these  knew  somehow  that  I  would  not  hurt 
them.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  fact  I  stood  there  embarrassed, 
knowing  not  what  to  say  or  do.  I  had  supposed  myself 
inured  by  now  to  all  the  most  impossible  situations — yet 
it  seemed  so  absurd  that  I  should  be  here,  alone,  abso- 
lutely alone,  among  dozens  of  young  women  who  were 
the  Emperor's  most  inviolate  property — virgins  selected 
from  among  the  highest  and  most  comely  in  the  land; 
forbidden  fruit,  which  had  not  even  been  tasted  because 
of  the  Emperor's  lack  of  masculinity.  ...  I  thought 
rapidly  of  the  various  classes  into  which  these  women 
are  divided  according  to  immemorial  custom  :  of  the  con- 
cubines of  the  first  rank,  of  the  second,  of  the  third,  and 
even  of  the  fourth,  who  are  merely  favoured  hand- 
maidens of  the  Biblical  type.  Then  I  wondered  whether 
it  was  true  that  when  the  former  Emperor  Hsien  Feng 
had  suddenly  died,  and  the  Empress  Dowager  had 
selected  the  child  Kuang-hsii  to  succeed  him,  she  had 
caused  the  child  to  be  mutilated,  so  that  the  question  of 
the  next  heir  should  remain  in  her  own  hands.  .  .  .  The 
women  would  know. 

And  yet  even  Imperial  concubines  must  have  oppor- 
tunities which  no  one  suspects,  for  I  was  suddenly  re- 
lieved of  the  necessity  of  breaking  the  ice  by  their  break- 
ing it  for  me.  Without  embarrassment  they  suddenly 
began  plying  me  with  questions,  and  not  waiting  for 
replies,  they  asked  what  was  going  on  outside;  what 
was  going  to  happen ;  who  was  I ;  why  had  I  come ;  why 


392         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

was  I  not  a  soldier?  .  .  .  The  questions  came  so  fast 
and  thick  that  before  I  had  realised  it  I  had  forgotten  my 
surroundings,  forgotten  the  time,  forgotten  most  things, 
I  am  afraid,  and  was  deep  in  the  middle  of  an  astonish- 
ing conversation,  which  never  flagged  and  which  was 
continually  broken  with  laughter.  Then  I  was  brought 
to  ominously.  I  heard  a  door  shut  with  a  thump ;  I  saw, 
the  women  pinch  and  look  at  one  another  and  cease 
talking.     What  did  that  door  mean? 

On  purpose  I  did  not  turn  round;  that  would  have 
been  fatal.  I  did  as  I  always  do  now :  I  gained  time  to 
lessen  the  shock.  Some  day,  when  I  have  much  leisure, 
I  shall,  doubtless,  prepare  tables  specially  adapted  to 
every  situation  and  to  every  temperament,  which  will 
show  exactly  the  number  of  seconds,  minutes,  and  hours 
which  are  necessary  on  an  average  to  accustom  one's 
self  to  anything.  It  is  possible  to  do  so ;  it  will  be  aston- 
ishing when  it  is  done.  For  the  time  being,  I  thought  of 
this  rather  glumly — indeed,  without  a  trace  of  enthusf- 
asm — and  I  wished  a  little  that  I  had  not  been  so  foolish 
in  putting  my  head  inside  the  lion's  mouth.  I  remem- 
bered the  story  a  former  Secretary  of  the  British  Lega- 
tion used  to  tell  us  of  two  Englishmen,  who,  in  the  un- 
regenerate  days  in  Cairo — or  was  it  Constantinople? — 
climbed  into  the  harem,  and  were  cruelly  mutilated  for 
their  audacity  before  they  could  be  rescued.  I  became 
so  glum  as  this  flashed  through  my  mind,  that  my  great 
system  of  preparation  was  in  imminent  danger  of  break- 
ing down.  So  I  turned  suddenly  round  on  my  heel,  and 
looked  squarely  ...  it  was  as  I  had  thought. 

The  door  I  had  entered  had  been  quietly  locked,  and 
now,  inside,  were  standing,  with  moving  lips  and  menac- 
ing air,  those  evil-looking  eunuchs.     This  time  there 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  393 

were  four  of  them.  Two  were  the  two  who  had  knelt 
and  prayed  that  we  should  not  enter  the  Empress  Dow- 
ager's private  apartments;  one  was  the  man  who  had 
stood  up  and  been  almost  threatening;  the  last  one  was 
so  tall  that  his  aspect  of  strength  almost  gave  the  lie  to 
the  assumption  that  he  had  been  mutilated  for  Palace 
use.  These  last  two  would  be  difficult;  the  others  I 
could  leave  out  of  my  calculations. 

Faithful  to  my  theory,  and  trusting  to  this  strange  ally, 
I  merely  opened  my  revolver-pocket;  then  it  was  with  a 
sense  that  I  was  irretrievably  lost  that  I  saw  that  two  of 
the  opponents  were  armed  in  the  same  way.  My  theories 
and  preparations  were  all  falling  to  the  ground.  I 
would  probably  follow  them  in  person  in  a  very  few 
minutes.    Nobody  would  be  the  wiser.  .   .   . 

I  stood  there  waiting  while  these  men  muttered  at  me, 
as  if  they  now  hated  me  bitterly,  and  yet  did  not  know 
how  to  commence,  and  with  the  women  behind  me  chat- 
tering affrighted.  In  vain  I  tried  to  work  out  how  many 
eunuchs  there  really  were  in  this  vast  Palace;  whether  a 
great  number  had  gone  away  with  the  Court,  or  whether 
these  four  men  would  summon  four  more,  or  perhaps 
fourteen,  and  possibly  even  forty  or  four  hundred. 
They  always  say  the  Palace  contains  three  thousand.  .  .  . 

It  was  all  no  good,  however,  for  it  was  my  turn  to  play, 
and  without  I  played  we  might  remain  standing  there  in 
this  manner  until  it  became  dark.  Then  I  could  be 
beaten  to  the  ground  and  thrown  down  a  well  without 
any  one  being  the  wiser.  No  search  could  be  made  for 
me,  and  if  one  was  made,  nothing  would  be  found. 
Men  were  continually  missing  in  Peking,  and  no  one 
knew  how  they  met  their  fate.  .   .   . 

I  advanced  now  with  my  hands  empty  and  my  mind 


394         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

fairly  made  up.  Everything  depended  on  a  new  theory, 
which  I  was  about  to  test,  a  mere  Chinese  theory  con- 
cerning eunuchs — that  their  mutilation  makes  them 
bestial,  but  also  downtrodden  and  quite  spiritless  and 
peculiarly  weak.  That  is  why  the  old  Empress  could 
thrash  them  to  death  whenever  they  displeased  her,  with- 
out their  daring  to  raise  their  hands  or  make  one  single 
struggle.  Now,  as  I  walked  forward,  I  could  see  my 
old  Chinese  teacher,  who  had  taught  me  these  strange 
theories  concerning  eunuchs,  sitting  in  front  of  me  and 
slowly  waving  his  fan,  and  showing  by  an  analysis  of 
things  I  did  not  clearly  understand,  how  Nature  had 
laws  and  decrees  which  cannot  be  violated  without  bring- 
ing heavy  and  immediate  punishment  in  their  train.  As 
I  walked  forward  I  could  not  help  seeing  that  old  figure 
of  a  Chinese  teacher  in  front  of  me,  and  prayed  that  he 
was  correct.  If  he  was  not  .  .  .  then  I  stopped  thinking 
and  acted. 

I  did  it  neatly,  with  some  brutality,  because  I  had  been 
absolutely  surprised,  and  had  not  yet  recovered,  and, 
also,  because  I  was  more  than  a  little  afraid.  Six  paces 
off  I  threw  myself  in  two  savage  bounds  against  the  tall 
man ;  caught  him  with  my  right  hand  by  the  outstretched 
right  arm,  hurled  him  round  once  by  the  force  of  my 
own  impetus  and  the  strength  of  my  grasp;  and  then,  as 
he  swiftly  swung  with  loosened  legs,  stopped  him  sud- 
denly short  with  a  mighty  up-driven  blow  of  my  right 
knee,  which  sank  so  deep  and  cruelly  into  his  soft  flesh, 
that  it  grated  harshly  against  his  spinal  column.  No- 
body can  resist  that  blow — according  to  the  old  man's 
theory,  least  of  all  a  eunuch — nobody,  nobody.  It 
should  be  certain  as  death,  once  you  have  the  right  grip. 
With  a  gurgle  my  man  had  sunk  to  the  ground  a  mere 


THE    FORBIDDEN    FRUIT  395 

shapeless  mass,  perhaps  really  dead;  and  with  my  breath 
coming  hot  through  my  nostrils  at  this  success  I  closed 
fiercely  with  the  second,  seized  him  by  the  throat, 
wrenched  at  him  like  a  madman,  and  carried  him  stag- 
gering back.  The  other  trick  demands  the  six  paces  and 
the  impetus;  I  would  have  liked  to  have  tried  it  again, 
but  I  had  not  dared.  .    .    . 

But  it  was  finished  with  dramatic  suddenness,  for  even 
as  I  ran  the  second  eunuch,  gasping  for  breath,  back- 
wards, the  other  two  rushed  to  the  door,  opened  it  hur- 
riedly, and  then  stepped  aside  with  loud  implorings  and 
supplications.  I  accepted.  I  let  go  my  grasp  and 
quickly  jumped  out.  I,  too,  had  had  enough.  As  I  went 
through  I  caught  a  last  glimpse  of  that  curious  scene 
framed  by  the  red  gate-posts  and  the  roofs  beyond — the 
senseless  eunuch  on  the  ground,  the  other  standing  near 
by,  coughing  and  reaching  at  his  throat,  the  women  of 
the  seraglio  in  their  gaily  flowered  coats  pressing  curi- 
ously round.  .  .  .  But  I  had  enough.  I  did  not  tarry. 
Rapidly  I  walked  away,  with  a  little  prayer  in  my  heart. 
I  felt  almost  as  I  had  felt  once  when  I  was  nearly 
drowning. 

I  found  K ,  five  minutes  later,  sitting  on  the  first 

marble  terrace,  with  his  pockets  bulging  out  and  an  ex- 
pression of  ox-like  satisfaction  on  his  face.  That  was  an 
antidote  which  speedily  sobered  me.  The  officer  was 
farther  on,  and  had  also  looted,  by  his  looks.  The  ser- 
geant of  the  guard — well,  I  knew  about  him  already. 

K smiled  when  I  appeared,  and  said  that  I  had  been 

very  quick  and  that  he  did  not  expect  me  so  soon.  I  did 
not  take  the  trouble  to  answer;  explanations  are  always 
apologies.  If  I  had  told  him  the  truth,  he  would  never 
have  believed  me,  and  certainly  never  have  understood. 


390         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

And  if  I  had  lied  there  would  have  been  the  same  result. 
So  I  merely  said  I  was  ready,  and  that  we  had  seen 
enough ;  and  then,  in  silence,  each  man  thinking  of  what 
he  had  done,  we  covered  the  way  back  very  quickly  and 
mounted  our  ponies.  All  the  way  home  during  that  long 
ride  I  was  amused  by  watching  the  heavy  posts  of 
soldiery  belonging  to  the  other  columns,  who  were  so 
jealously  guarding  their  own  entrances.  How  angry 
they  would  have  been  if  they  had  only  known!  .  .  . 
That  was  an  extraordinary  day. 


VII 

THE    FEW  REMAINS 

End  of  August,  1900. 


Imperceptibly,  I  believe,  things  are  settling  down  a 
little  and  assuming  broad  outlines  which  can  be  more 
easily  understood  as  the  days  go  by.  Most  people  who 
went  through  the  siege  have  now  gone  away.  A  few 
remaining  missionaries  and  their  converts  have  flowed 
far  away  and  quartered  themselves  in  some  of  the  resi- 
dences of  the  minor  Manchu  princes,  and  are  now  selling 
off  what  they  have  found  by  auction.  They  have  the 
special  permission  of  the  Ministers  and  Generals  to  act 
in  this  way.  Loot-auctions,  indeed,  are  going  on  every- 
where, and  the  few  people  who  have  managed  to  get 
through  from  other  places  in  China  with  loads  of  silver 
dollars  are  making  fortunes.  There  are  enormous 
masses  of  silver  sycee  in  nearly  everybody's  hands,  and 
I  am  certain  now  that  several  of  our  chefs  de  mission 
are  in  clover.  My  own  chief,  who  pretends  to  be  virtu- 
ous because  he  is  something  of  a  faineant,  to  put  it 
mildly,  eyed  me  very  severely  the  other  day  and  said 
that  every  one  reported  that  I  had  developed  into  a 
species  of  latter-day  robber-chief,  and  had  slain  hun- 
dreds of  people.  He  said  all  sorts  of  other  things,  too. 
I  let  him  exhaust  his  oratory  before  I  replied.  Then  I 
inquired  regarding  the  definition  of  the  term  treasure- 
trove,  which  has  become  the  consecrated  phrase  for  all 


398         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

our  many  hypocrites.  The  generals  and  many  of  his 
colleagues  had  much  treasure-trove,  I  said;  I  had  some, 
too.  Of  course,  I  admitted  that  if  there  were  investi- 
gations, and  every  one  had  to  render  a  strict  account,  I 
would  do  the  same;  but  for  the  time  being  I  wanted 
to  know  that  there  was  going  to  be  only  one  law  for 
every  one.  Those  were  good  replies,  for  some  of  the 
biggest  people  in  the  Legations  are  so  mean  and  so  bent 
on  covering  up  their  tracks  that  they  are  using  their 
wives  to  do  their  dirty  work. 

I  believe  my  chief  thought  for  a  moment  that  I  knew 
something  about  an  affair  in  which  he  was  involved,  for 
he  only  said  one  word,  "Bien,"  and  looked  at  me  in  a 
strange  way.  I  knew  I  had  frightened  him,  and  that  he 
must  have  thought  that  if  I  chose  to  speak  later  on  there 
would  be  trouble.  I  had  no  such  intention,  of  course, 
only  I  hated  being  annoyed  by  a  man  of  little  courage. 
Had  he  been  courageous  I  should  never  have  answered 
at  all,  except  perhaps  to  offer  him  a  share  of  my  private 
treasure-trove ! 

Yet  with  all  this  settling  down  it  seems  to  me  that 
people  must  be  becoming  suddenly  more  and  more  com- 
mercial, and  that  an  inspection  of  their  accounts  makes 
them  wish  for  a  little  more  on  the  profit  side.  For  one 
morning  a  young  Englishman,  who  has  been  living  in 
Peking  rather  mysteriously  for  a  number  of  years, 
marched  in  on  me  at  a  very  early  hour,  accompanied 
by  several  Chinese,  whom  I  immediately  knew  from 
their  appearance  to  be  small  officials.  The  Englishman 
said  that  he  had  a  plan  and  a  proposition,  and  these  he 
unfolded  so  rapidly  that  he  made  me  laugh.  It  ap- 
peared that  the  men  he  had  brought  with  him  were  ku- 
ping,  or  Treasury  Guards  of  the  Board  of  Revenue 


THE    FEW    REMAINS  399 

under  the  old  regime;  and,  according  to  their  accounts, 
they  knew  exactly  where  the  secret  stores  of  treasure 
were  hidden  in  the  secret  vaults  of  the  government. 
They  explained  that  these  stores  belonged  not  only  to  the 
government,  but  were  also  portions  of  what  peculating 
officials  took  from  day  to  day  and  hid  away  until  they 
could  remove  their  plunder  in  safety  after  an  inspection 
had  been  made.  They  said,  did  these  informants,  that 
there  were  millions  in  both  gold  and  silver.  They  be- 
came very  enthusiastic  and  excited  as  they  talked. 

I  waited  patiently  to  see  how  they  proposed  to  solve 
this  problem — did  they  wish  a  bold,  open,  frontal  attack 
or  an  underground  plot?  Nothing  is  very  astonishing 
now,  and  we  have  all  the  resourcefulness  of  condottieri, 
with  a  certain  modern  respectability  added.  But  they 
were  sensible  people,  and  did  not  dream  of  the  impos- 
sible. They  supposed,  they  said,  that  I  knew  that  the 
Russians  had  now  full  control  of  the  Board  of  Revenue. 
Perhaps,  if  their  commander  could  be  approached  in  the 
proper  way,  the  matter  could  be  very  rapidly  attended 
to.  The  treasure  could  be  seized  in  the  name  of  the 
Russian  Government  and  every  one  could  get  a  share. 
That  is  what  they  said. 

At  first  I  thought  of  refusing  point-blank,  for  I  was 
rather  tired  of  these  adventures;  but  the  men  were  so 
persistent,  and  I  had  been  so  irritated  by  the  pious  insin- 
cerity of  my  own  chief,  that  in  the  end  I  told  them  that 
I  would  see  what  could  be  done,  although  the  matter 
did  not  interest  me  very  much.  I  privately  again  thought 
of  what  our  old  doyen  says,  "Ce  n'est  pas  pour  rlen 
qu'on  commit  les  Russes,"  and  wondered  how  long  nego- 
tiations would  last. 

Of  course  it  was  a  wretchedly  long  business,  and  before 


400         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

long  I  regretted  bitterly  that  I  had  not  been  more  hard- 
hearted.    I  managed  to  communicate  with  L that 

same   day  through   R ,   and   explained  to  him   as 

well  as  I  could  the  whole  affair.  I  found  the  Russian 
Commander-in-Chief  a  sly  old  fox,  for  his  first  idea  was 
to  thank  me  for  the  information  and  have  the  whole 
Treasury  searched;  if  necessary,  to  dig  down  to  a  depth 
of  twenty  feet  or  so  with  the  help  of  a  regiment  or  two 
of  infantry.  That  was  his  idea.  In  the  end  we  man- 
aged to  convince  him  that  this  was  foolish,  and  that 
there  must  be  places  which  his  soldiers  could  not  reach 
even  by  prodding  down  with  their  bayonets  and  spades 
to  great  depths.  Secret  chambers  cannot  be  easily  dis- 
covered even  in  this  way,  we  said.     That  made  L 

very  angry,  for  no  reason  apparently  but  that  the 
affair  seemed  a  huge  bother  and  trouble.  He  said  in 
reply  that  the  Japanese  had  taken  everything  in  any 
case,  and  that  this  was  going  to  be  a  fool's  quest  if  he 
went  on  with  it.  Also,  he  would  not  listen  to  any 
arrangements  being  made  and  put  in  writing  regarding 
the  proportions  to  be  paid  to  every  one  if  a  find  was 
actually  made.  Indeed,  this  last  idea  irritated  him  so 
much  that  he  angrily  said  that  we  were  deliberately 
plotting  to  take  away  the  property  of  the  Russian  Gov- 
ernment— property  which  the  Russian  Government 
could  not  afford  to  lose,  and  did  not  intend  to  lose, 
either.  He  even  added  that  this  was  a  city  of  robbers, 
and  that  people  would  not  keep  to  their  own  territory, 
but  were  always  trying  to  trespass.  This  made  us  laugh 
so  much  that  he  suddenly  changed  his  manner,  and  said 
that  the  whole  question  was  a  serious  one  and  would 
have  to  be  referred  home  by  telegraph.  Otherwise  he 
could  not  authorise  any  payments.     K ,  who  was 


THE   FEW    REMAINS  401 

present,  replied  sarcastically  that  perhaps  he  would  like 
to  refer  the  question  direct  to  the  Czar,  and  begged  him 
to  be  cautious  in  such  a  very  important  affair ! 

The  last  thing  which  could  be  got  out  of  the  Russian 
Commander-in-Chief  was  that  he  would  telegraph  at 
once  to  Alexieff  at  Port  Arthur  and  ask  his  permission 
to  arrange  matters.  If  Alexieff  said  yes,  we  would  go 
to  work  at  once ;  otherwise  nothing  could  be  attempted. 
I  knew  that  probably  not  a  single  word  would  be  men- 
tioned to  any  one  out  of  Peking,  and  that  these  were 
mere  manoeuvres.     However  .    .   . 

I  had  almost  forgotten  the  matter  when,  a  few  morn- 
ings after  this  interview,  I  was  suddenly  awakened  at 
daylight  and  told  that  there  were  several  Russian  officers 
in  my  courtyard  who  wished  to  speak  to  me  at  once. 
Their  business  was  urgent.     I  went  out  and  greeted  the 

men,   and   they   said  that   L would  be   ready   at 

two  o'clock  that  day  to  go  with  his  staff  to  the  Board  of 
Revenue  and  effect  the  seizure;  and  that  a  quarter  share 
on  all  amounts  seized  would  be  given  by  the  Russian 
Government  for  the  information  supplied.  These 
officers  added  that  they  would  have  to  go  back  at  once; 
but  in  the  end  they  remained  with  me  the  whole  morn- 
ing, drinking  as  hard  as  they  could,  and  contenting 
themselves  with  despatching  a  Cossack  to  say  that  all 
was  arranged. 

We  started  to  go  to  the  Russian  headquarters  at  an 
early  hour,  but  in  some  mysterious  way  news  must  have 
been  conveyed  to  other  people  of  this  latest  development, 
for  half  a  dozen  men  arrived  and  appeared  immensely 
surprised  to  find  these  Russian  officers  there  with  me  on 
their  horses.  They  asked  me,  each  in  turn,  whether 
everything  had  been  arranged,  and  how  much  every  one 


402  INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

was  going  to  get,  and  where  the  treasure  was  to  be 
stored.  There  was,  indeed,  no  end  to  their  questions, 
and  they  said  that  they  estimated  that  the  sum  seized 
would  amount  to  about  ten  or  twelve  million  francs. 
Later  on,  each  man  took  me  aside,  and  explained  what 
he  had  done  to  help  the  thing  along,  hoping  that  he 
would  be  remembered  in  the  end,  as  this  was  a  very  big 
affair,  and  the  more  people  in  it  the  better.  I  confess 
I  did  not  clearly  understand  all  this;  it  was  like  floating 
a  mining  company.  But  I  knew  that  most  of  these  dear 
friends  had  been  sitting  shivering  inside  the  Legations 
while  the  sack  was  going  on,  because  they  had  no  wish 
to  risk  their  lives ;  and  now  that  they  thought  they  could 
safely  earn  an  honest  penny  in  a  legitimate  affair,  they 
would  stoop  to  anything ! 

We  were  soon  such  a  huge  cavalcade  that  I  became 

nervous    about   the   reception   L would   give   us. 

The  Russian  officers,  too,  became  more  and  more  drunk 
in  the  open  air,  and  kept  on  saying  that  they  hoped  there 
would  be  fighting,  heavy  fighting,  for  they  felt  just  like 
it.  A  charge  was  what  they  wanted,  they  said.  No  one 
could  find  out  with  whom  they  proposed  to  fight,  as  the 
place  we  were  going  to  was  only  a  stone's  throw  away, 
with  not  a  Chinaman  near  and  a  couple  of  strong  com- 
panies of  Russian  infantry  inside.  The  officers  became  in- 
tensely angry  when  every  one  laughed,  and  said  that 
although  they  were  drunk,  they  were  not  like  many 
people  without  stomachs  about  whom  there  had  been 
so  much  talk.  That  was  a  nasty  home-blow  for  some  of 
them. 

We    found   L ready    enough;    indeed,    we    had 

kept  him  waiting.  He  had  most  of  his  staff  with  him, 
and  the  usual  escort  of  Cossacks  standing  by  their  horses, 


THE    FEW    REMAINS  403 

making  it  seem  very  official.  Of  course,  L be- 
came furious  when  he  saw  the  big  crowd  of  people,  and 
asked  whether  it  was  going  to  be  a  picnic.  This  word 
tickled  one  of  the  drunken  officers  so  much,  that  sud- 
denly he  let  his  loose  legs  relapse  and  clapped  his  spurs 
into  his  animal,  which  reared  horribly,  and  in  the  end 
sent  him  on  the  ground.  I  thought  I  should  die  of 
laughter.  Then  everybody  became  more  and  more 
fussy,  because  they  were  afraid  of  L ,  but,  for- 
tunately, the  general  started  off  ahead,  muttering  to  him- 
self, and  we  rode  after  him  like  some  procession.  It 
seemed  to  me  very  absurd,  and  at  that  point  I  lost  all 
confidence  in  the  success  of  the  expedition.  Every  one 
had  become  too  sanguine,  and  I  fully  believe  that  you 
cannot  have  any  luck  in  such  affairs  with  a  crowd  of 
idiots.  Other  people,  who  had  no  business  to  know  of 
the  affair,  somehow  managed  to  join  us  on  the  way,  and 
when  we  reached  the  Board  of  Revenue  we  numbered 
dozens  of  men,  not  including  the  escorts. 

There  were  about  two  companies  of  Russian  infantry 
in  occupation  there,  as  I  have  already  said,  and  in  the 
first  halls  we  found  armed  guards  superintending  hun- 
dreds of  small  Chinese  boys  at  work  stringing  together 
copper  cash.  There  must  have  been  millions  and  hun- 
dreds of  millions  of  these  worthless  coins  either  piled  up 
in  great  mountains  or  scattered  on  the  floors,  and  it 
would  take  months  to  sort  them  out  and  market  them. 
It  was  the  only  thing  the  cunning  Japanese  had  openly 
left! 

L now   called    the    officers   of   the    guard,    and 

explained  to  them  that  he  was  about  to  seize  secret  treas- 
ure which  had  been  so  well  hidden  by  the  Chinese  that 
the  Japanese  had  not  been  able  to  find  it.    He  told  them 


404         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

to  give  their  assistance.  The  new  officers,  when  they 
heard  this,  looked  so  sharply  at  one  another,  that  every 
one  began  to  comment  on  it,  and  say  that  if  there  was 
nothing  left  they  knew  who  was  guilty.  It  was  becoming 
delightful. 

We  started  off  in  a  body  with  the  ku-ping,  or  treasury 
guards,  who  were  giving  the  information,  leading  us. 
They  took  us  past  a  good  many  huge  buildings  that 
looked  like  grimy  old  warehouses,  and  then  stopped  us 
short  at  one  that  appeared  to  be  still  barred  and  bolted. 
It  took  some  time  to  open  these  doors,  although  the  offi- 
cers of  the  guard  said  that  they  had  only  been  closed 
after  they  had  taken  over  the  place  from  the  Japanese; 
and  when  we  got  inside  it  was  so  dark  and  dank  that  we 
could  see  nothing  and  could  scarcely  breathe.  Candles 
had  to  be  lighted,  and  as  they  threw  feeble  flickers  of 
light  across  the  gloom,  hideous  bats  began  flying  madly 
about,  and  dashing  to  the  ground  in  their  fright  great 
shreds  of  dusty  cobwebs  that  must  have  been  centuries 
old.  Nobody  minded  that,  however;  it  seemed  just  the 
sort  of  place  where  millions  could  really  be  found  in 
these  prosaic  days ! 

The  thing  was  now  interesting,  if  only  from  a  psycho- 
logical point  of  view.  .    .    . 

The  ku-ping  advanced,  without  hesitation,  and  brought 
us  to  a  high  wooden  paling  which  shut  off  one  half  of 
this  immense  hall  from  the  other.  Inside  the  paling,  as 
far  as  we  could  see,  there  were  just  mountains  of  empty 
sacks — hundreds  of  thousands  of  them,  even  millions, 
I  should  think. 

But  the  paling  was  impassable.  A  small  gate  leading 
through  it  was  still  locked  with  a  heavy  Chinese  padlock, 
and  there  was  no  key.     One  of  the  officers  gave  a  wave 


THE    FEW    REMAINS  405 

of  his  hand,  and  a  couple  of  the  soldiers  went  out  and 
reappeared  with  axes.  In  a  few  blows  they  had  cleared 
a  broad  opening;  the  ku-ping  sprang  through,  and,  like 
bloodhounds  that  scent  a  trail,  ran  swiftly  up  the  steep 
slopes  of  the  great  masses  of  empty  bags,  looking  eagerly 
about  them.  Then,  finally  calculating  aloud,  they 
marked  down  a  spot.  They  had  located  the  exact  place 
where  they  would  have  to  begin  to  work.  They  stripped 
themselves  to  the  waist  with  great  rapidity,  and,  feeling 
that  their  reputations  were  at  stake,  without  any  warn- 
ing they  were  heaving  away  among  those  empty  sacks 
like  so  many  madmen.  Faster  and  faster  they  worked, 
throwing  away  the  sacks.  Choking  clouds  of  dust, 
now  rising  as  if  by  magic,  filled  the  whole  vast  hall  and 
drove  us  back  coughing  and  gasping  for  air,  until,  fairly 
beaten,  we  had  to  stand  outside.  As  if  through  a  thick 
vapour  we  could  dimly  see  those  men  still  working  more 
and  more  rapidly.  I  wondered  how  they  could 
breathe.   .    .    . 

In  very  few  minutes,  however,  they  also  had  had 
enough,  but  as  they  sprang  down,  and  quickly  gasping, 
sought  the  open  air,  they  brought  with  them  the  end  of  a 
rope.  They  had  evidently  not  only  located  the  exact 
spot  they  were  seeking,  but  had  found  the  first  trace 
which  was  necessary  to  make  their  search  successful. 
Still,  it  was  impossible  to  continue  work  in  this  way.  It 
would  take  hours,  at  such  a  slow  rate,  to  dig  down  be- 
neath those  mountains  of  old  treasure-sacks.  It  would 
take  more  hours  to  excavate  or  open  up  chambers  be- 
neath. So  we  held  a  short  consultation.  There  was  but 
one  thing  to  do.  We  must  tear  down  one  side  of  the 
building,  so  as  to  have  more  light,  and  to  be  able  to  put 
more  men  to  work.     No  sooner  decided  on,  than  the 


406  INDISCREET   LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

thing  was  done,  for  in  this  work  the  Russians  are  su- 
preme. They  called  in  fatigue  parties  from  the  infantry 
companies  in  garrison,  and,  telling  them  in  simple  lan- 
guage to  break  down  one  side  of  the  building,  in  a  few 
moments  a  wonderful  scene  began.  I  had  seen  some 
rapid  work  at  short  intervals  during  the  worst  agony  of 
the  siege,  but  never  have  I  seen  men  who  could  handle 
the  axe  and  the  crowbar  like  these  rude  infantrymen. 
Everything  went  down  under  their  blows — brickwork, 
woodwork,  stonework,  iron  stanchions,  everything;  and 
with  a  rapidity  which  seemed  incredible,  gaping  spaces 
appeared.  Soon,  standing  outside,  from  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent points,  you  could  see  the  Chinese  informants  in- 
side at  work  again,  in  those  clouds  of  choking  dust, 
thrashing  up  and  down,  like  men  possessed. 

But  energy  is  not  sufficient  for  some  things.  Three  men 
were  attempting  the  work  of  a  hundred.  We  must  have 
more  hands. 

This  time  the  dozens  of  small  boys  stringing  cash  in  the 
outer  courtyards  were  called  in  and  told  to  fall  to;  and 
forming  lines  which  oddly  resembled  those  made  by 
firemen,  they  were  soon  bundling  out  the  empty  sacks 
to  the  open  at  the  rate  of  thousands  a  minute.  Faster 
and  faster  they  worked,  as  if  the  same  frenzy  had  spread 
to  them;  wider  and  wider  moved  the  rings  of  floating 
dust,  until  they  hung  high  above  everything  and  made 
the  day  seem  dull  and  threatening.  Then  suddenly  the 
ku-ping  inside  gave  a  shout.  They  had  got  low  enough 
for  the  time  being — they  wanted  to  be  able  to  see.  The 
squads  of  sweating  soldiers  and  the  dozens  of  grimy 
little  boys  desisted  and  stood  open-eyed  to  see  what  was 
to  follow.  They  were  beginning  to  appreciate  the  sig- 
nificance of  it  all. 


THE    FEW    REMAINS  407 

We  waited  patiently  and  watched  the  great  clouds  melt 
away  and  settle  on  our  clothes  and  silt  into  our  eyes ;  and 
then  finally,  when  it  was  clearer,  a  man  inside  struck  a 
match,  lit  a  candle  and  handed  it  down  into  a  great  hole 
which  had  been  dug  through  the  very  centre  of  these 
decade-old  bullion  coverings.  How  deep  the  hole  was 
I  could  not  see,  but  the  three  men  slipped  in  and  were 
entirely  lost  to  our  view. 

They  seemed  a  long  time  down  there  without  giving  a 
single  sign  or  making  any  noise,  and  we  all  became  a 
little  nervous.  Perhaps  the  thing  was  really  miscarry- 
ing. Soon  I  felt  certain  that  it  had  miscarried,  and 
bitterly  regretted  taking  the  matter  in  hand.  Then  one 
man  came  up  gruntingly  and  began  cursing  and  swearing 
as  soon  as  he  saw  us.  He  did  that  because  he  was  afraid. 
I  feared  the  worst.  On  his  shoulders  there  was  one 
single  great  lump  of  silver  and  nothing  else,  and  as  he 
clambered  out  to  where  we  stood  he  tilted  it  with  a 
dull  thud  to  the  ground,  and  said  sullenly  that  that  was 
the  only  thing  left,  and  that  others  had  been  there  before 
us.  He  repeated  this  several  times,  so  that  there  should 
be  no  mistake;  there  was  only  this  enormous  piece  of 
silver  and  nothing  else.  The  smiles  left  everybody's 
face.  Never  have  I  seen  such  a  sudden  change.  How- 
ever, to  me  it  was  kismet.  .    .    . 

In  some  trepidation  we  at  length  approached  L 

and  told  him  what  had  been  said,  and  then  there 
was  another  storm.  He  said  that  it  was  impossible — 
that  there  must  be  some  mistake — that  the  men  had  said 
that  the  bullion  was  there,  and  there  it  must  be.  As  he 
spoke  his  anger  rose  again,  and  coming  up  and  kicking 
the  massive  silver  ingot,  he  asked  again  and  again  in  a 
few  words  of  French,  which  I  believe  he  had  learned 


408  INDISCREET  LETTERS   FROM   PEKING 

especially  for  the  occasion,  "Mais  oil  est  I'orf  mats  ou 
est  I'orf"  It  was  almost  pitiful  to  hear  him  repeat  these 
words  again  and  again  like  a  child.  He  believed  we 
were  cheating  him.   .    .    . 

The  position  had  now  become  suddenly  ridiculous,  and 
I  did  not  know  what  to  do.     Every  one  soon  took  up 

L 's  attitude,  and  felt  that  they  had  been  cheated 

by  some  one.  Indeed,  they  acted  as  if  they  had  lost 
valued  possessions.  They  all  clambered  around  me,  and 
said  that  it  was  disgraceful,  and  that  something  should 
be  done  to  punish  the  men  who  had  brought  the  false 
information.  They  became  so  excited  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  create  a  diversion  by  going  down  into  that  hole 
ourselves  to  see  exactly  what  it  meant.  That  proved 
the  last  straw. 

It  was  the  dirtiest  and  most  uncomfortable  descent  I 
have  ever  made.  Sliding  down  through  those  piles  of 
sacks  led  one  to  a  false  floor,  some  planks  of  which  had 
been  forced  up  by  the  Chinese  informants.  Beneath 
this  was  a  short  ladder,  and,  stepping  down,  one  found 
one's  celf  in  an  immense  underground  chamber.  The 
air  was  so  thick  and  dank  here  that  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible to  breathe,  and  in  the  flickering  light  of  the  candles 
we  could  just  see  a  confused  mass  of  chests  and  boxes 
ranged  round.  Every  one  of  these  had  been  battered 
open.  The  cunning  Japanese  must  have  been  there  first 
and  taken  everything.  Alone  that  big  lump  of  silver 
had  been  left  because  of  its  weight. 

But  there  was  something  I  missed.  These  ku-ping  had 
been  emphatic  about  the  valuable  weights  we  would  find 
hidden — the  standard  weights  of  China  in  pure  gold, 
which  were  centuries  old,  they  said,  and  were  the  same 
as  had  been  used  during  the  Ming  dynasty  hundreds 


THE   FEW   REMAINS  409 

of  years  before.     I  asked  for  them — where  were  they 
kept?     Perhaps  we  might  at  least  have  these. 

Alas !  they  led  me  to  a  smaller  chamber,  with  a  curious 
little  door  formed  of  a  single  slab  of  stone,  and  pointed 
once  again  disconsolately  to  more  rifled  boxes.  These 
outer  chests  covered  smaller  boxes,  which  were  of  the 
size  of  the  weights  themselves.  I  had  always  heard  that 
the  biggest  weight  of  all  was  a  square  block  of  gold 
equal  to  the  weight  of  a  full-grown  man.  I  would  like  to 
have  seen  that,  but  everything  was  gone.  It  was  useless 
wasting  any  more  time. 

We  came  up  again  carrying  some  of  those  silk-lined 
boxes  as  explanations  and  souvenirs.  But  our  friends 
were  now  all  standing  round  some  soldiers,  who  had 
accidentally  knocked  aside  some  flags  of  stone,  and  had 
found  a  deep  hole  underneath.  They  were  now  jerking 
away  violently  at  some  last  obstruction,  and  finally  they 
swept  aside  everything  and  bared  some  steep  steps.  As 
we  stood  wondering  what  had  been  discovered,  and  our 
hopes  were  almost  revived,  far  down  below  appeared 
a  grimy  face,  and  a  man  at  last  ran  up,  rapidly  exclaim- 
ing from  surprise,  as  he  mounted  to  the  surface.  It 
was  one  of  our  Chinese  informants !  Then  suddenly  we 
saw  the  point,  and  in  spite  of  our  discomfiture  began 
laughing.  The  soldiers  of  the  fatigue  parties,  slower 
than  us  to  understand,  at  length  followed  our  example; 
then  the  hundreds  of  small  Chinese  boys;  then  every  one 
else,  until  we  were  all  laughing.  For  we  had  been  fooled 
and  well  fooled  by  those  clever  little  Japanese.  When 
they  had  seized  the  Treasury,  they  had  not  only  dis- 
covered the  general  stores  of  silver,  but  had  managed 
to  find  this  hidden  entrance  or  some  other  near  by. 
Without  any  trouble  they  had  gone  down  and  taken 


410         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

everything,  swept  the  place  clean,  and  left,  probably  as 
a  supreme  sarcasm,  that  one  enormous  lump  of  black- 
ened silver.  .  .  .  We  were  indeed  well  sold.  It  was 
immense. 

At  that  particular  moment  I  do  not  think  any  one  was 
very  bitter  at  this  absurd  anti-climax  after  those  great  ex- 
pectations. That  is,  excepting  the  old  general.  Some- 
how, he  became  convinced  by  our  preparations  that  there 
would  be  much  gold  found  as  a  just  reward.  Now  once 
again  he  accused  us  all  of  making  a  fool  of  him,  of 
knowing  from  the  beginning  that  it  was  a  wild-goose 
chase.  I  thought  sarcastically  about  his  telegram  and 
the  desire  he  had  had  in  the  first  place  to  haggle  about 
the  terms ;  and  I  let  him  mutter  on.  It  is  always  the  one 
who  laughs  last  who  laughs  best.     I  made  a  little  plan. 

We  retired  from  the  Chinese  Treasury  with  rather  in- 
decent haste.     L did  not  even  look  at  the  guard 

which  turned  out  as  we  passed  the  entrance.  When  we 
had  entered  they  had  hurrahed  him,  and  hoped  that  his 
health  was  good,  in  a  chorus  after  their  custom;  and  he 
had  made  a  little  speech  in  return,  trusting  that  his  chil- 
dren were  also  well !  It  was  amusing  if  you  happened 
to  be  able  to  appreciate  that  kind  of  wit.  Most  of  my 
companions,  however,  did  not.  And  yet  with  the  clouds 
of  dust  which  had  settled  on  us  and  covered  us  from 
head  to  foot  with  dirt  it  was  impossible  to  look  even 
dignified  with  success.  And  all  my  friends,  who  had 
been  so  cordial  and  admiring  in  the  morning,  how  cold 
and  distant  they  had  become !  They  had  not  made  any- 
thing— was  not  that  a  sufficient  excuse  for  any  be- 
haviour? 

Somehow  news  of  this  expedition  must  have  leaked  out 
everywhere  through  the  indiscretion  of  confident  busy- 


THE    FEW    REMAINS  411 

bodies,  until  everybody  knew  about  it,  for  we  kept  on 
meeting  men  riding  across  our  road  as  if  by  chance,  and 
asking  what  luck  we  had  had.  This  made  the  com- 
panions I  had  gathered  more  furious  than  ever,  and  at 
the  last  moment,  as  we  parted,  I  could  not  restrain 
myself.  I  rode  up  to  one  of  the  staff  officers  who  had 
been  the  most  officious  and  the  most  offensive,  and 
begged  him  not  to  forget  to  remind  the  general  that  he 
had  a  duty  to  perform.  An  account  must  be  telegraphed 
at  once  to  Alexieff !  That  was  the  last  word — the  very 
last. 


VIII 

THE   PALSY   REMAINS 

September,  1900. 


I  have  now  ridden  to  every  point  of  the  compass  in  the 
city,  and  even  beyond,  and  I  have  inspected  everything 
with  a  critical  eye.  It  is  wonderful  how  things  shape 
themselves.  There  are  now  some  portions  of  the  city 
that  are  reasonably  peaceful  even  at  night,  and  where 
even  women  can  come  forth  and  walk  openly  about; 
others  that  are  quiet  on  the  surface  and  yet  throw  up 
mad  things  at  all  hours ;  and  lastly,  there  are  those  where 
riot  and  disorder  still  reign  supreme.  Some  people  esti- 
mate that  half  or  even  three  quarters  of  the  native  popu- 
lation have  fled,  and  that  this  accounts  for  the  curious 
silence  which  now  reigns,  only  to  be  broken  by  the  noise 
of  marauders  or  marching  troops.  Yet  I  do  not  believe 
that  so  many  of  the  population  have  really  fled;  many 
people  remain  half  hidden  in  quiet  spots,  where,  packed 
dozens  and  dozens  in  a  single  house,  they  tremulously 
await  the  return  of  happier  days.  The  Chinese,  I 
sometimes  think,  of  all  peoples  of  this  earth  must  have 
their  historic  sense  enormously  developed.  Thousands 
of  years  of  civil  wars  and  countless  endless  sieges  have 
placed  them  in  the  dilemma  of  to-day  more  often  than 
it  is  possible  to  say.  Only  fifty  years  ago  the  Taipings 
made  whole  provinces  suffer  the  way  Peking  has  now 
suffered.  .  .  .  Such  things  must  live  in  the  blood  of  a 
people  and  never  be  quite  forgotten.  .  ..  ... 


THE    PALSY    REMAINS  413 

You  muse  like  this  very  often  when  you  ride  out  and 
meet  lumbering  military  trains  going  back,  to  Tientsin, 
laden  with  countless  chests  of  loot.  What  immense 
quantities  of  things  have  been  taken !  Every  place  of 
importance,  indeed,  has  been  picked  as  clean  as  a  bone. 
Now  that  the  road  is  well  open,  dozens  of  amateurs,  too, 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth  have  been  pouring  in  to  buy 
up  everything  they  can.  The  armies  have  thus  become 
mere  bands  of  traders  eternally  selling  or  exchanging, 
comparing  or  pricing,  transporting  or  shipping.  Every 
man  of  them  wishes  to  know  whether  there  is  a  fortune 
in  a  collection  of  old  porcelain  or  merely  a  competence, 
and  whether  it  is  true  that  a  long  robe  of  Amur  River 
sables,  when  the  furs  are  perfect  and  undyed,  fetch  so 
many  hundreds  of  pounds  on  the  London  market.  There 
are  official  military  auctions  going  on  everywhere,  where 
huge  quantities  of  furs  and  silks  and  other  things  come 
under  the  hammer.  Yet  it  is  noticed  that  the  very  best 
things  always  disappear  before  they  can  be  publicly 
sold.  A  phrase  has  been  invented  to  meet  the  case. 
"Cherchez  le  general,"  people  say. 

Even  with  these  sales  the  stocks  never  seem  to  sink 
lower.  There  are  always  fresh  finds  being  made — seiz- 
ures made  officially  by  an  officer  or  two  with  a  few  files 
of  men  so  that  there  may  be  some  reasonable  excuse  to 
offer  to  those  who  persist  in  remaining  mulishly  prudish. 
These  new  finds  are,  of  course,  called  treasures-trove. 
They  are  good  words.  Looting  has  officially  ceased;  is, 
indeed,  forbidden  under  the  most  severe  penalties.  That 
is  why  it  is  being  systematised  and  made  open  and  re- 
spectable. It  is  in  the  blood.  You  cannot  escape  it;  it  still 
follows  you  everywhere,  no  matter  how  far  away  you  go. 

Listen  to  this.    I  rode  some  days  ago  into  the  Imperial 


414         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

city  in  order  to  climb  the  famous  Mei  Shan,  or  Coal 
Hill,  built,  according  to  ancient  tradition,  so  that  when 
some  immense  disaster  overwhelmed  the  ruling  dynasty, 
it  might  be  lighted  and  consume  in  its  flames  the  whole 
Imperial  family.  That  is  the  tradition — that  the  hill  is 
an  immense  funeral  pyre.  (Nowadays,  however,  ruling 
dynasties  are  so  human  that  they  merely  run  away.)  All 
the  way  up  that  historic  hill  I  was  followed  by  the  whin- 
ing voices  of  disappointed  looters.  A  battalion  of  the 
French  troops,  which  came  straight  from  Europe  a  week 
or  so  too  late  for  the  relief,  was  in  garrison  at  the  base 
of  this  eminence,  and  French  soldiers  escorted  me  to  the 
top,  probably  under  orders  to  see  that  I  did  not  try  and 
chip  off  the  gold-leaf  which  is  reputed  to  line  the  roofs 
of  the  pavilions.  You  can  never  be  quite  certain  for 
what  reason  you  are  watched  by  rival  nationalities  now. 

It  was  a  long  climb  to  the  top,  up  winding  steps  that 
never  ceased  and  through  little  pavilions  which  looked 
out  on  the  scene  below.  A  final  flight  of  stairs  at  last 
introduced  you  into  a  structure  which  crowned  the 
whole.  From  here  the  view  was  magnificent.  Right 
below  you  you  could  see  far  into  the  Palace  and  inspect 
the  marble  bridges,  the  lotus-covered  sheets  of  water 
and  all  the  other  things  of  the  Imperial  plaisaunce. 
Farther  on,  the  city  of  Peking  spread  out  in  huge  ex- 
panses hemmed  in  only  miles  away  by  the  grey  tracing 
of  the  city  walls  and  the  high-standing  towers.  Farther 
again  were  waving  fields  with  uncut  crops  rotting  as 
they  stood,  because  all  the  country  people  had  fled  to 
escape  the  vengeance.  On  the  very  horizon  line  were 
dark  hills.  The  view  was  indeed  immense  and  wonder- 
ful. 

I  stood  lost  a  little  in  this  contemplation,  and  forgot 


THE    PALSY    REMAINS  415 

the  attendants  who  had  so  persistently  followed  me,  un- 
til suddenly  their  voices  rose  in  a  dispute  which  was  pur- 
posely loud  so  that  it  should  engage  my  attention.  At 
last,  as  the  stratagem  had  failed,  and  I  did  not  turn,  a 
soldier  bolder  than  his  comrades  pushed  up  to  me,  and 
saluting  politely  enough,  said  that  they  had  a  few  things 
to  sell,  although  they  had  had  hard  luck  and  had  found 
Peking  almost  empty.  Indeed,  before  showing  me  any- 
thing, they  complained  bitterly  of  the  men  from  Tonkin, 
who  were  no  better  than  disciplinary  battalions  and  who 
got  everything  because  they  had  come  with  the  first 
columns.  This  they  called  cruelly  unjust.  Then  from 
their  pockets  and  tunics  these  men  began  producing  their 
little  articles  de  vertu.  They  made  me  laugh  at  first, 
for  they  had  systematised  so  much  that  each  man's  pos- 
session had  a  ticket  attached,  with  the  price  in  francs 
clearly  marked.  That  was  good  commercialism  brought 
straight  from  France. 

They  were,  however,  only  the  usual  things — watches, 
rings,  snuff-boxes,  hair-ornaments,  curios  of  minor  value, 
and  a  few  stones  of  bad  colour.  But  the  men  crowded 
round  me  and  extolled  their  wares  like  the  hucksters  of 
Europe,  and  beseeched  me  to  buy  in  a  most  anxious  man- 
ner. They  would  sell  cheap,  very  cheap,  they  confessed, 
at  the  present  moment,  because  they  had  just  learned 
that  an  order  had  been  issued  to  search  all  their  kits 
and  to  turn  over  the  finds  to  a  common  fund.  Rumours 
had  spread  to  Europe,  they  said — it  was  the  first  I  had 
heard  of  it — of  the  dark  things  which  had  been  going 
on,  and  the  generals  were  becoming  alarmed.  .    .    . 

Fortunately  I  had  with  me  some  gold  coin,  and  for  a 
mere  song  I  purchased  everything.  I  did  not  want  to  do 
so,  but  already  experience  has  taught  us  that  it  is  best  to 


416         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

buy  when  you  are  alone  and  no  help  near  by,  otherwise 
your  pockets  may  be  turned  out  and  everything  taken 
without  an  excuse.  That  happened  to  a  man  in  the  Ger- 
man Legation. 

I  climbed  down  from  the  famous  Coal  Hill,  thinking 
very  little  of  the  renowned  view.  I  wondered  merely 
when  it  was  all  going  to  end,  and  how  normal  conditions 
were  going  to  come.  I  wandered,  thinking  in  this  man- 
ner, over  the  famous  marble  bridge,  that  delicate,  de- 
lightful tracing  of  stone  which  so  charmingly  crosses  an 
artificial  lake  thick  with  swaying  lotus.  I  turned  this 
way  and  that,  not  thinking  very  much  where  I  was 
going;  and  presently,  on  my  way  back,  walked  past  the 
Little  Detached  Palace,  where,  they  say,  the  Emperor 
was  imprisoned  after  the  1898  coup  d'etat.  Here  there 
was  a  curious  sight,  which  brought  back  my  wandering 
attention.  French  and  English  soldiers  divided  the 
honour  of  guarding  this  Palace  entrance.  Rival  sentries 
stood  only  ten  or  fifteen  feet  away  from  one  another  and 
jealously  watched  to  see  that  this  prize  was  not  secretly 
seized.  The  British  regiment  had  the  actual  gates;  it 
seemed  that  the  French  had  posted  themselves  so  close 
merely  to  watch.  I  passed  these  lines  of  sentries  and 
wandered  along,  only  to  be  accosted  once  more  as  soon 
as  I  was  in  a  quiet  alley.  I  soon  found  that  this  man  and 
his  mates  were  more  cunning  than  those  with  whom  I  had 
had  previously  to  deal  and  that  some  time  must  elapse 
before  a  bargain  could  be  struck.  They  wasted  time 
ascertaining  who  I  was,  and  only  hinted  at  good  things 
— not  the  usual  watches  and  rings,  they  said,  but  really 
things  worth  their  weight  in  pure  gold.  Then  one  man 
tempted  me  deliberately  with  an  abrupt  movement  which 
reminded  me  of  the  way  the  sellers  of  obscene  playing- 


THE   PALSY   REMAINS  417 

cards  in  Paris  disclose  to  the  unsuspecting  stranger  their 
wares.  He  drew  from  his  tunic  a  little  wooden  box, 
opened  it  quickly,  and  laid  bare  a  most  exquisite  Louis 
XV.  gold  belt-buckle,  set  in  diamonds  and  rubies,  and 
beautifully  painted.  I,  who  knew  a  little  of  Manchu 
history,  understood  that  belt-buckle.  It  must  have  been 
one  of  the  countless  presents  made  during  the  early  days 
of  the  Jesuits  in  Peking,  when  they  almost  controlled 
the  destinies  of  the  Empire.     It  was  a  priceless  relic. 

Of  course  I  succumbed.  Such  things  have  an  inter- 
national value,  and  were  not  merely  the  sordid  pickings 
from  deserted  private  dwellings.  Who  would  not  rob  a 
fleeing  Emperor  of  his  possessions? 

After  this  we  went  into  the  English  camp  unostenta- 
tiously, and  by  some  means  men  came  forward  from  no- 
where, and  without  greeting  or  superfluous  words 
showed  me  what  they  had.  The  English  are  good 
traders;  they  never  waste  their  words;  and  as  I  looked 
I  thought  of  the  anguish  which  the  patrons  of  the  Hotel 
Drouot  or  Christie's  would  have  felt  could  they  have 
seen  this  marvellous  collection.  For  these  common  men 
had  made  one  of  such  taste  and  value  that  there  could 
be  no  doubt  where  the  things  had  been  obtained.  Every 
piece  was  good  and  a  century  or  two  old.  There  were 
enamels  and  miniatures  which  must  have  lain  undis- 
turbed for  countless  years  watching  the  Manchu  Em- 
perors come  and  go.  There  were  beautiful  stones  and 
snuff-boxes,  and  many  other  things.  There  might  be 
none  of  the  black  pearls  of  General  Montauban,  Comte 
de  Palikao,  that  had  delighted  the  Empress  Eugenie 
half  a  century  ago,  but  there  were  objets  de  vertu  such 
as  duchesses  love. 

In  the  end,  I,  too,  became  commercial  and  arranged 


418         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

that  some  men  should  come  and  find  me  that  same  even- 
ing, bringing  as  much  as  they  could  carry  of  the  spoils 
they  had  amassed.  They  were  to  be  paid  in  gold  coin 
or  in  gold  bars  just  as  I  pleased,  weight  for  weight,  and 
a  quarter  in  my  favour.  That  was  soon  settled.  In  the 
evening  the  men  duly  came,  not  the  few  I  had  supposed, 
but  so  many  that  they  filled  my  courtyards,  yet  manag- 
ing to  remain  curiously  silent.  For  them  an  important 
turning-point  had  been  reached;  they  would  make  small 
fortunes  if  the  thing  went  through  successfully.  With 
scales  in  front  of  me  and  gold  alongside,  we  weighed 
and  calculated  unendingly — weight  for  weight,  with 
that  one  quarter  in  my  favour.  It  took  two  hours  and 
more,  for  these  common  men  were  very  careful,  and 
everything  had  to  be  written  down  and  recorded  with 
strange  marks  and  numbers,  denoting  the  private  di- 
vision of  profits  which  would  afterwards  follow.  In  the 
end  everything  was  finished  with  and  bought.  Then  the 
men  stood  up  and  shook  themselves  as  if  they  had  been 
bathed  in  a  perspiration  of  anxiety,  and  the  spokesman, 
a  dark  man  with  a  quick  tongue,  which  showed  that  he 
had  not  always  been  a  soldier,  thanked  me  curtly.  When 
they  had  drunk,  at  my  request,  he  explained  to  me  how 
it  was  done.  There  was  something  dramatic  in  the  way 
he  described.  It  was  so  simple.  I  recorded  what  he 
said  so  as  not  to  forget.  "When  it's  dark,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  with  no  introduction,  "there's  only  the 
picquets.  They  have  everything  to  themselves  except- 
ing that  the  Frenchies  are  just  alongside.  The  Frenchies 
watch  us  close,  but  we  watch  them  closer,  and  there's 
always  a  way.  Rounds  are  not  kept  up  the  whole  night, 
for  everything  is  slack  now,  and  when  they  are  finished 
the  fun  begins.     The  reliefs,  lying  on  the  ground,  strip 


THE    PALSY    REMAINS  419 

off  everything  so  that  they  can  crawl  like  snakes  and  that 
no  one  can  get  hold  of  them.  They  crawl  in  through 
holes,  over  walls,  with  never  a  match  or  a  light  to  show 
them  how.  In  the  end  they  get  inside."  The  man 
laughed  a  little  hoarsely,  spat,  and  again  went  on. 

"The  palace  they  call  the  Little  Detached  Palace  will 
soon  be  picked  clean — clean  as  any  dog's  bone,  with  the 
Frenchies  only  fifteen  feet  off,  and  you'll  get  nothing 
more  from  there.  Sometimes  the  Frenchies  suspect  and 
want  to  march  right  in  on  us,  but  our  corporals  are  wait- 
ing, and  are  ready  for  them,  and  our  bayonets  stop  them 
short.  Twice  it's  happened  that  their  officers  march  a 
guard  right  up  to  the  gates  of  the  Little  Detached,  and 
want  to  stay  there  all  night  with  our  fellows  crawling 
about  inside.  They  suspected.  But  we  bluffed  them 
away  every  time,  and  now  that  all  the  good  things  are 
gone  we  are  carrying  away  the  big  ones — vases,  small 
tables,  carvings,  jars,  bowls — everything.  We  wrap  them 
up  in  a  bundle  of  great-coats  and  feed-bags  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  carry  them  away;  no  one's  ever  the  wiser.  All 
round  the  Palace  they  are  doing  the  same.  The 
Yankees,  the  Russians,  and  all  of  them  are  in  the  same 
boat.  All  night  they  climb  the  walls  to  get  the  swag. 
Give  them  another  six  months  and  there  will  be  nothing 
left." 

Thus  spoke  the  spokesman  of  the  party.  It  was  organ- 
ised plundering,  and  everybody  winked  at  it.  After 
they  had  gone  I  sat  long  and  reflected.  This  was  the 
retribution  and  the  vengeance.  We  were  all  tarred  with 
the  same  brush ;  we  were  returning  to  primitive  methods. 
Yet,  what  could  be  done — what  steps  could  be  taken? 
It  was  rather  a  hopeless  tangle,  and  once  more  I  gave 
it  up. 


IX 

DRIFTING 

September,  1900. 


There  is  not  a  single  scrap  of  news  worth  recording, 
although  telegrams  are  now  coming  through  more  and 
more  freely  by  the  field  telegraphs  from  Europe.  Still, 
no  one  knows  what  is  going  to  happen.  As  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  astute  action  of  the  Court  in  fleeing  at  the  last 
second  of  the  eleventh  hour  becomes  more  and  more 
general,  people  begin  to  see  how  absurd  we  have  become 
with  our  avenging  armies  which  were  going  to  do  so 
much,  and  are  now  merely  traders  collecting  and  valuing 
and  slowly  taking  away  the  best  loot  of  the  capital.  The 
troops  effected  the  relief,  it  is  true;  but  there  should 
have  been  other  steps.  If  these  are  now  taken  it  is  too 
late.  Some,  indeed,  say  that  punitive  expeditions  are 
going  to  be  sent  into  the  country  as  soon  as  a  transport 
service  can  be  organised.  Even  now  nests  of  Boxers 
and  disbanded  soldiers  are  reported  in  great  numbers 
only  a  few  miles  beyond  Peking.  These  men  seem  to 
understand  that  they  are  quite  safe  even  so  close  as  this 
to  the  European  corps,  and  that  ample  warning  will  be 
conveyed  to  them  directly  there  is  any  movement,  so  as 
to  allow  them  to  escape.  They,  too,  are  now  pillaging 
and  setting  fire  far  and  wide.  Cossacks  and  other  cav- 
alry are  supposed  to  be  out  many  miles  beyond  Peking, 


DRIFTING  421 

sweeping  the  country,  and  blowing  up  or  setting  fire  to 
temples  and  rich  country-seats  as  a  warning  to  others 
of  the  fate  which  may  overtake  all  for  harbouring  evil- 
doers. Yet  even  this  is  done  on  no  system.  It  is  irreso- 
lute, foolish.  A  day  or  two  ago,  from  the  top  of  the 
Tartar  Wall,  where  I  was  idly  sitting,  I  saw  a  huge  pil- 
lar of  smoke  roll  up  on  the  horizon  ten  or  fifteen  miks 
away,  and  gradually  spread  farther  and  farther.  The 
air  was  very  still,  for  the  heat  can  still  be  baking  in  the 
midday  of  this  autumn  month,  and  that  smoke  hung  on 
the  skies  like  some  funeral  pall.  Into  the  hearts  of  a 
whole  country-side  it  must  have  struck  a  blind  terror, 
for  the  peasants  still  believe  that  they  are  all  to  die  as 
soon  as  the  troops  move  out.  The  panic  is  thus  only 
being  added  to;  and  a  sort  of  blind  scourging  of  people 
who  may  not  be  in  the  least  guilty  can  never  be  of  use. 
There  is  also  still  the  same  palsy  on  every  one  and  every- 
thing in  Peking.  No  one  really  knows  what  is  going  to 
happen.  No  one  very  much  cares.  They  say  that  this  is 
being  debated  in  Europe,  and  that  there  are  divided 
counsels  which  may  bring  about  a  split  and  really  turn 
the  various  corps  now  nominally  allied  to  one  another 
into  active  enemies,  as  I  dream  when  I  see  those  jealous 
guards  at  the  Palace  entrances.  .    .    . 

Yesterday  some  Chinese  whom  I  had  known  in  the  old 
days  came  stealthily  to  see  me,  and  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone  with  me,  without  excuse  or  warning,  they  fell  on 
their  knees  and  began  bitterly  weeping.  How  sad,  in- 
deed, they  were,  these  respectable  people  of  the  Chinese 
bourgeoisie — so  sad  that  for  a  long  time  I  could  not  per- 
suade them  to  speak.  Yet  even  as  they  wept  they  were 
dignified  in  a  curious  way,  and  you  felt  that  you  were 


422         INDISCREET   LETTERS   FROM    PEKING 

in  the  prcsenceof  men  who  had  only  been  cruelly  wronged. 
At  length  they  began  speaking.  They  had  lost  every- 
thing, absolutely  everything,  they  said,  what  with  the 
Boxers  and  the  sack,  all  this  long,  unending  Reign  of 
Terror.  But  that  they  did  not  mind.  They  were  bitter 
and  beyond  consolation  because  they  had  lost  the  in- 
tangible— their  honour.  Each  one  had  had  women  of 
their  households  violated.  One,  with  many  hideous 
details,  told  me  how  .  .  .  soldiers  came  in  and  violated 
all  his  womankind,  young  and  old.  That  account,  mut- 
tered to  me  with  trembling  lips,  was  no  invention.  Their 
blanched  and  haggard  faces  showed  that  it  was  only  the 
truth  they  were  speaking.  About  such  elemental  trage- 
dies no  one  lies. 

I  tried  to  comfort  these  poor  men  as  best  I  could.  I 
told  them  old  sayings  which  had  once  been  familiar  to 
me;  it  was  hard  to  know  really  what  to  do.  Yet  they 
at  length  became  more  philosophic,  and  said  they  under- 
stood that  this  was  a  visitation  which  the  nation  had 
deserved.  China  had  been  utterly  wrong;  it  had  been 
madness.  Then  they  remained  silent,  and  that  silence 
was  like  a  sermon  straight  from  Heaven,  both  for  them 
and  for  me.  I  saw  dimly  for  a  few  seconds  many 
things,  and  understood  that  it  was  useless  saying  more. 
But  as  they  were  wretchedly  poor,  I  gave  them  silver 
from  the  rich  men's  houses,  which  seemed  very  Biblical 
— each  man  as  much  as  he  could  carry — and  told  them 
that  they  could  always  come  for  more.  I  asked  them 
also  to  tell  all  the  people  I  had  known  to  come,  too ;  I 
would  do  as  much  as  I  could  for  all  of  them.  So  all 
to-day  they  have  been  coming,  and  I  have  showered 
largesse.  A  few  households  have  thus  some  relief,  but 
the  last  man  who  came  told  me  that  a  Hanlin  scholar, 


DRIFTING  423 

who  was  his  neighbour — a  learned  man,  who  in  the 
times  of  peace  was  courted  by  all — is  now  selling 
wretched  little  cakes  down  the  side  alleys  so  to  save  him- 
self and  his  few  remaining  relations  from  slow  starva- 
tion.    Such  things  are  the  dregs.    It  is  too  much.  .   .   . 


X 

PICKING   UP   THREADS 

September,  1900. 


I  suppose  in  some  subtle  way  the  conviction  is  being 
gradually  forced  home  that  something  must  really  be 
done  to  try  and  ameliorate  the  general  situation.  It 
could  obviously  not  go  on  forever  in  this  way,  with  the 
commanders  of  the  rival  columns  almost  fighting  among 
themselves,  and  with  everybody  quietly  looting,  and  our 
Ministers,  who  have  lost  so  much,  just  twiddling  their 
thumbs  and  delaying  their  departure  because  they  are 
afraid  of  worse  things  happening.  So  somebody  has 
been  getting  into  communication  with  whoever  repre- 
sents the  last  vestiges  of  Chinese  authority  in  this  ruined 
capital,  and  diligent  search  has  discovered  that  there  are 
actually  a  few  high  officials  left  and  a  great  number  of 
smaller  ones.  These  have  all  shown  a  trembling  haste 
to  oblige;  and  after  some  pourparlers,  there  is  now  a 
faint  possibility  of  a  modus  vivendi  being  arranged 
during  the  next  few  weeks. 

For  it  soon  transpired,  after  the  confidence  of  these 
remaining  officials  had  been  gained,  that  Prince  Ching 
had  been  discreetly  dropped  by  the  fleeing  Court  only 
about  fifty  miles  to  the  southwest  of  Peking — dropped 
just  behind  the  first  mountain  barriers,  so  that  he  was  at 
once  safe  and  yet  within  easy  call.  He  had  been  in 
waiting  there   for  weeks,  it  appears.     Sage  old  man ! 


PICKING    UP   THREADS  425 

Those  conciliatory  despatches,  coming  from  the  officers 
of  the  defunct  Tsung-li  Yamen,  have  made  of  this  old 
Manchu  prince  the  natural  person  to  bridge  over  the 
ever-widening  gulf  the  Court  has  dug  by  its  insanity. 
People  remember  now  that  this  procedure  of  leaving 
behind  a  Prince  to  begin  the  first  pourparlers  is  only  the 
precedent  of  i860.  1  hen  Prince  Kung  played  exactly 
the  same  role  when  the  Court  had  fled  to  Jehol. 

Prince  Ching  fenced  a  long  time  before  he  would  move 
forward,  or  even  disclose  his  safe  hiding-place ;  but  in  the 
end  he  was  prevailed  upon  by  some  one.  And  yesterday 
he  actually  entered  Peking  through  the  same  Northern 
Gates  which  witnessed  the  mad  flight  of  the  Court  a 
month  ago. 

Many  rode  out  to  see  this  entry,  half  expecting  some- 
thing spectacular,  which  would  give  them  a  change 
of  thought.  But  they  were  grievously  disappointed. 
Prince  Ching  merely  appeared  in  a  sedan  chair,  looking 
very  old  and  very  white,  and  with  his  cortege  closely 
surrounded  by  Japanese  cavalry,  whose  drawn  swords 
gave  the  great  man  the  appearance  of  a  prisoner  rather 
than  that  of  an  Envoy.  Every  Chinese  official,  large 
and  small,  in  the  city  came  out  on  this  occasion  for  the 
first  time  since  the  troops  burst  in;  and  sitting  in  what 
carts  they  could  find,  and  clothed  in  the  remains  of  their 
official  clothes,  they  paid  their  Manchu  dignitary  their 
trembling  respects.  What  terror  these  wretched  men 
exhibited  until  they  actually  met  the  Prince,  and  saw 
that  there  was  going  to  be  no  treachery  of  shooting  down 
by  ignorant  soldiery !  For  a  whole  month  every  one 
of  them  had  been  living  disguised  in  the  most  humble 
clothes,  escaping  over  back  walls  directly  news  was 
brought  that  marauders  were  at  their  front  doors;  offer- 


426         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

ing  their  very  women  up  so  as  to  escape  themselves; 
living  in  all  truth  the  most  wretched  lives.  Hourly  they 
had  expected  to  be  denounced  by  enemies  to  the  Euro- 
pean commanders  as  ex-Boxer  chiefs,  and  then  to  be  sum- 
marily shot.  That  is  what  had  happened  for  miles  round 

Monseigneur  F 's  cathedral,  it  is  being  whispered. 

The  native  Catholics,  having  died  in  hundreds,  and  lost 
whole  families  of  relatives,  had  revenged  themselves  as 
cruelly  as  only  men  who  have  been  between  life  and 
death  for  many  weeks  do.  They  had  led  French  soldiers 
into  every  suspected  household,  and  pointing  out  the 
man  on  whom  rumour  had  fixed  some  small  blame,  they 
had  exacted  vengeance.  Even  on  this  day  of  Prince 
Ching's  entry  this  search  and  revenge  was  still  going 
on ;  there  were  so  many  scores  to  pay.  .    .    . 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  every  official  was  thinking  of 
these  things,  for  the  little  convoys  that  I  watched  all  day 
wending  their  way  to  the  north  of  the  city  represented 
petrified  fear  in  forms  that  I  hope  I  may  never  see  again. 
I  stopped  one  cart,  all  bedecked  with  flags — German 
flags,  English  flags,  Russian  flags,  French  flags,  Jap- 
anese flags,  every  kind  of  flag,  to  help  to  protect  from  all 
possible  injury — merely  to  inquire  at  what  hour  pre- 
cisely Prince  Ching  would  arrive  and  where  he  was 
going  to  live.  What  a  result  these  questions  had !  In- 
stantly he  heard  my  voice,  the  official  inside  the  cart 
crawled  half  out  with  a  deathly  green  pallor  on  his  face, 
and  with  his  \/hole  body  trembling  so  violently  that  I 
thought  he  would  collapse  for  good.  As  it  was,  he  re- 
mained in  a  sort  of  stricken  attitude,  like  a  man  who  has 
been  stunned.  He  was  quite  speechless.  I  called  to  him 
several  times  that  all  was  well,  that  he  would  not  be 
hurt,  to  calm  himself.  .,  M  .  In  vain.     Every  word  I 


PICKING    UP   THREADS  427 

spoke  only  added  to  his  terror  and  remained  unin- 
telligible because  of  his  panic.  He  was  a  lost  soul — 
for  ever.  The  iron  had  entered  too  deeply.  He  was  so 
smitten  that  he  never  could  be  cured. 

His  outriders,  who  had  swung  themselves  from  their 
saddles,  at  last  bowed  to  me.  They  were  a  little  pale, 
but  quite  collected.  "Excellency,"  they  caid,  "forgive 
him;  it  is  not  his  fault.  He  has  been  frightened  into 
semi-insanity."  "Hsia  hn-tu-lo,"  they  said.  Yes,  that  is 
the  phrase,  frightened  into  semi-lunacy.  They  are  em- 
ploying this  for  every  one.  The  tragedy  has  been  so 
immense,  the  strain  has  been  endured  for  so  many 
months,  there  has  been  so  much  of  it,  that  all  minds 
excepting  those  of  the  common  people  have  become  a 
little  unhinged.  Half  the  time  you  speak  to  men  you 
are  not  understood ;  they  look  at  you  with  staring  eyes, 
wondering  whether  the  rifle  or  the  bayonet  is  to  follow 
the  question.     It  is  past  curing  for  the  time  being. 

Meanwhile  Prince  Ching  has  got  in  safely,  and  has 
been  given  a  big  residence,  which  is  closely  guarded  by 
the  Japanese.  Perhaps  the  modus  vivendi  will  after  all 
be  arranged. 


XI 

THE   IMPOSSIBLE 

30th  September,  1900. 


Prince  Ching  has  been  here  a  number  of  days  now — 
I  have  not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  note  how  many — 
but  still  nothing  has  been  done.  They  say  that  half  the 
Powers  refuse  to  treat  with  him  until  things  are  better 
arranged,  and  that  the  Russians  have  already  raised 
insuperable  difficulties  because  they  say  the  Japanese 
have  the  big  Manchu  in  their  pocket.  Others  argue  that 
expeditions  must  really  be  launched  against  a  number 
of  cities  in  Northern  China,  where  hideous  atrocities 
have  been  committed,  and  where  missionaries  and  con- 
verts were  butchered  in  countless  numbers  during  the 
Boxer  reign.  Until  these  expeditions  have  marched  and 
had  their  revenge,  there  can  be  no  treating.  There  must 
be  more  killing,  more  blood.     That  is  what  people  say. 

The  fleeing  Court  has  reached  Taiyuanfu,  it  is  reliably 
reported.  This  is  three  hundred  miles  away,  but  the 
Court  does  not  yet  feel  safe;  it  is  going  farther  west, 
straight  on  to  Hsianfu,  the  capital  of  Shensi  province, 
which  is  seven  hundred  miles  away.  That  is  a  big  gulf 
to  bridge;  yet  if  there  is  any  advance  of  European  corps 
in  that  direction,  already  Chinese  say  that  the  Empress 
will  flee  into  the  terribly  distant  Kansu  province — per- 
haps to  Langchou,  which  is  another  four  hundred  miles 
inland;  perhaps  even  to  Kanchau  or  Suchau,  which  are 


THE    IMPOSSIBLE  429 

five  hundred  miles  nearer  Central  Asia.  These  cities, 
lying  at  the  very  southwestern  extremity  of  the  Great 
Wall  of  China,  look  out  over  the  vast  steppes  of  Mon- 
golia, where  there  are  nothing  but  Mongols  belonging 
to  many  hordes,  who  live  in  the  saddle  and  drive  their 
flocks  of  sheep  and  their  herds  of  ponies  in  front  of 
them,  forever  moving.  It  is  nearly  two  thousand  miles 
in  all;  no  European  armies  could  ever  follow,  not  in 
five  years.  They  would  slowly  melt  away  on  that  long, 
interminable  road.  With  such  a  line  of  retreat  open  the 
Court  is  absolutely  safe,  and  knows  it.  It  can  act  as  it 
pleases. 

Prince  Ching  is  so  miserably  poor,  they  say,  and  has 
so  little  of  the  things  he  most  needs,  that  he  has  been 
forced  to  borrow  looted  sycee  from  corps  commanders 
and  to  give  orders  on  the  Southern  Treaty  ports  in  pay- 
ment.    It  is  an  extraordinary  situation. 

A  number  of  little  expeditions  have  already  been 
pushed  out  forty,  fifty,  and  even  sixty  miles  into  the 
country,  feeling  for  any  remnants  of  the  Chinese  armies 
which  may  remain.  I  went  with  one  of  these  faute  de 
mieux,  as  Peking  has  become  so  gloomy,  and  there  is 
so  little  to  do  that  it  fills  one  with  an  immense  nostalgia 
to  remain  and  continually  to  contemplate  the  ruins  and 
devastation,  from  which  there  can  be  no  escape. 

Never  shall  I  regret  that  little  expedition  into  the  rude 
hills  and  mountains,  where  climbs  in  wonderful  manner 
the  Great  Wall  of  China.  It  was  divine.  There  was  a 
sense  of  freedom  and  of  openness  which  no  one  who  has 
not  been  a  prisoner  in  a  siege  can  ever  experience.  In 
the  morning,  sweet-throated  cavalry  trumpets  sounded 
a  reveille,  which  floated  over  hill  and  dale  so  chastely 
and  calmly  that  one  wished  they  might  never  stop.    How 


430         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM    PEKING 

those  notes  floated  and  trembled  in  the  air,  as  grey  day- 
light was  gently  stealing  up,  and  how  good  the  brown 
earth  smelt !  I  almost  forget  the  other  kind  of  trumpet 
— that  cruel  Chinese  trumpet  which  only  shrieks  and 
roars. 

Each  day  we  rode  farther  and  farther  away,  and  higher 
and  higher,  beating  the  ground  and  examining  the  vil- 
lages, from  which  whole  populations  had  fled,  to  see  that 
no  enemy  was  secretly  lurking.  Travelling  in  this  wise, 
and  presently  climbing  ever  higher  and  higher,  we  came 
at  last  to  little  mountain  burgs,  with  great  thick  outer 
walls  and  tall  watch-towers,  where  in  olden  days  the 
marauders  from  the  Mongolian  plains  were  held  in 
check  until  help  could  be  summoned  from  the  country 
below.  It  was  c  wonderful  experience  to  travel  along 
unaccustomed  paths  and  to  come  on  endless  ruined 
bastions  and  ivy-clad  gates,  which  closed  every  ingress 
from  Mongolia.  Once  these  defences  must  have  been 
of  enormous  strength. 

One  night,  after  journeying  for  a  long  time,  we  camped 
in  one  of  these  little  mountain  burgs,  taking  full  pos- 
session, so  that  there  should  be  no  treachery  while  it  was 
dark.  The  night  passed  quietly,  for  even  fifty  miles 
beyond  Peking  the  terror  lies  heavy  on  the  land,  and  in 
the  morning  we  wandered  to  the  massive  iron-clad  gates 
and  the  tall  watch-towers  which  stood  sentinel  on  either 
side  to  see  if  there  was  anything  to  be  had.  How  old 
these  were,  how  very  old !  For,  mounting  the  staircase 
leading  to  the  towers,  we  found  that,  although  the  rude 
rooms  beneath  showed  signs  of  having  been  recently 
occupied,  the  stone  steps  which  led  to  the  roof-chambers 
were  covered  with  enormous  cobwebs  and  great  layers 
of  dust,  showing  that  nothing  had  been  disturbed  for 


THE    IMPOSSIBLE  431 

very  many  years.  That  was  as  it  should  be.  At  the 
very  top  of  one  tower  we  discovered  a  locked  door,  and 
beating  it  in  amid  showers  of  dust,  we  penetrated  a 
room  such  as  a  witch  of  mediaeval  Europe  would  dearly 
have  loved.  Nothing  but  cobwebs,  dust,  flapping,  grey- 
yellow  paper  and  decay.     It  was  immensely  old. 

And  yet  we  found  something.  For  there  were  some 
chests  hidden  away,  and  prizing  these  open,  we  discov- 
ered great  books  of  yellow  parchment,  so  old  and  so 
sodden  that  they  fell  to  pieces  as  soon  as  one  touched 
them.  They  were  in  some  Mongol  or  Manchu  script. 
They,  too,  were  centuries  old.  But  there  was  something 
else — a  great  discovery.  Beneath  the  books  we  found 
helmets,  inlaid  with  silver  and  gold  and  embellished 
with  black  velvet  trappings  studded  with  little  iron  knobs. 
There  were  also  complete  suits  of  chain  armour. 
It  seemed  to  us  in  that  early  morning  that  we  were  sud- 
denly discovering  the  Middle  Ages,  perhaps  even  the 
Dark  Ages.  For  these  things  were  not  even  early 
Manchu;  they  were  Mongol;  Mogul — the  war-dress  of 
conquerors  whose  bodies  had  been  rotting  in  the  dust 
for  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  or  even  nine  centuries.  These 
relics  had  lain  there  undisturbed  for  all  this  time  because 
China  has  been  merely  tilling  the  fields  and  neglecting 
everything  else.  In  a  curious  mood  we  donned  these 
suits  and  went  down  below  clad  as  the  conquerors  of 
old. 

There  were  some  Indian  troopers  waiting,  and  when 
they  saw  these  things  they  exclaimed  and  muttered  ex- 
citedly to  one  another,  casting  half-startled  looks.  These 
were  the  same  trappings  and  war-dresses  as  in  the  days 
of  theGreat  Moguls  at  Delhi.  The  very  same.  The  con- 
querors who  had  swept  across  high  Asia  had  worn  such 


432         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

things,  and  every  man  from  Northern  India  must  have 
understood  their  meaning  and  message.  As  they  looked 
the  Indian  troopers  chattered  and  talked  to  one  another 
in  a  growing  excitement.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had  sud- 
denly dug  up  some  links  of  the  half-forgotten  past  which 
showed  how  the  chain  of  armed  men  had  been  tightly 
bound  by  Genghis  Khan  and  Batu  Khan,  and  all  the 
other  great  Khans,  from  the  Great  Wall  of  China  all 
round  Northern  and  Central  Asia,  until  it  had  reached 
down  over  the  Himalayas  into  India.  It  was  very 
curious. 

When  we  had  finished  this  reconnaissance,  which 
carried  us  in  every  direction  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Great  Wall,  we  turned  bridle  and  made  back  towards 
Peking  by  another  route.  A  day's  march  away  from 
the  capital,  word  was  brought  us  that  there  were  still 
numbers  of  disbanded  soldiery  and  suspected  Boxers  hid- 
ing in  the  Nan-Hai-tsu — a  great  Imperial  Hunting  Park, 
which  had  fallen  into  decay  during  the  present  century. 
We  would  have  to  sweep  this  park,  which  was  dozens  of 
miles  broad  and  quite  wild,  and  scatter  any  bands  we 
might  find.  So  starting  after  midnight,  we  marched  hard 
in  the  gloom  for  several  hours  with  native  guides  leading 
us,  and  daylight  found  us  under  the  encircling  wall  of 
the  ancient  hunting-ground.  We  halted  there  a  bit  and 
refreshed  ourselves  quickly,  and  then  galloped  in 
through  a  breach.  There  were  miles  upon  miles  of 
beautiful  grass  stretches,  and  we  and  our  mounts  were 
fairly  pumped  before  we  saw  or  heard  anything.  But 
towards  midday  we  came  on  some  tiny  hills  and  a  few 
low  buildings,  which  seemed  suspicious,  and  no  sooner 
had  we  approached  than  a  whole  nest  of  men  rushed  out 
on  us,  firing  and  shouting  as  they  ran.     Some  had  only 


THE   IMPOSSIBLE  433 

huge  lances  made  of  bamboo,  fifteen  feet  and  more 
long,  and  tipped  with  iron  and  with  little  red  pennons 
fluttering ;  yet  these  were  the  most  effective  of  all.  Wav- 
ing these  lances  violently,  and  holding  them  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  near,  these  men 
scattered  our  charge  before  it  got  home  and  unhorsed  a 
number  of  troopers.  Then  it  became  a  general  melee, 
which  ended  in  the  killing  or  capture  of  a  few  of  the 
enemy  and  the  rapid  escape  of  the  remainder. 

Very  late  in  the  evening  we  rode  into  Peking  with  our 
helmets  and  our  coats  of  mail  and  our  long  lances  as 
trophies.  The  capital  seemed  terribly  listless  and 
oppressed  after  the  country  beyond,  and  I  was  bitterly 
sorry  that  expedition  had  not  lasted  for  weeks  and 
months. 


XII 

SUSPENSE 

October,  1900. 

Another  month  has  come  and  there  has  been  practically 
no  change.  They  say  now  Prince  Ching  has  no  power 
to  treat,  and  that  he  is  a  mere  Japanese  prisoner. 
Li  Hung  Chang  is  in  Tientsin,  too,  it  appears.  He  is  to 
be  the  other  plenipotentiary  when  negotiations  really 
commence,  but  for  the  time  being  he  is  the  Russian  cap- 
tive. The  Russians  have  him  surrounded  with  their 
troops,  and  no  one  but  a  favoured  few  may  even  see 
him.  Already  there  has  been  trouble  with  the  British 
on  this  score  at  Tientsin,  and  some  people  say  that  some 
pretext  will  be  seized  to  bring  about  an  international 
crisis  among  the  expeditionary  corps.  They  are  fighting 
about  the  destroyed  railway  up  to  Peking  already.  Vari- 
ous people  are  claiming  the  right  to  rebuild  the  line,  and 
refuse  to  give  up  the  sections  they  have  garrisoned. 
Everywhere  there  are  pretty  complications  in  the  air. 

Meanwhile,  in  Peking  itself  things  have  become  more 
and  more  quiet,  and  as  the  policing  is  slowly  improving, 
confidence  is  a  little  restored.  But  still  new  troops  are 
being  marched  in  all  the  time — notably  German  troops 
— and  as  soon  as  night  closes  down  all  these  men  fall  to 
looting  and  outraging  in  any  way  they  can.  They  say 
that  the  Kaiser,  in  his  farewell  speech  to  his  first  con- 
tingent, before  Peking  had  been  heard  of  for  weeks, 


SUSPENSE  435 

told  the  men  to  act  in  this  way.  They  are  strictly  obey- 
ing orders.  Even  the  officers  of  the  new  troops  take  a 
hand  in  this  looting  in  a  modified  way.  They  force  their 
way  into  the  remains  of  the  curio  shops,  take  the  few 
pieces  which  are  left,  place  a  dollar  or  so  on  the  counter 
and  then  walk  out.    This  makes  a  legitimate  purchase. 

In  the  Japanese  district,  which  is  now  the  best  policed 
and  the  most  tranquil,  shops  are  being  reopened,  but  are 
now  being  panic-stricken  by  this  new  procedure.  It  is 
the  refinement  of  the  game,  and  there  is  no  redress  pos- 
sible. Beyond  this  I  know  not  of  a  thing  worth  the 
mentioning. 


XIII 

STILL  DRIFTING 

October,  1900. 

•       •      '•      '•      '•      r  • 

There  is,  after  all,  to  be  no  Immediate  peace — that 
seems  now  quite  certain.  We  hear  that  the  Russians 
have  invaded  all  Manchuria  and  are  strengthening  their 
hold  there  by  bringing  in  more  and  more  troops  from  the 
Amur  districts.  They  say,  too,  that  the  French  have 
crossed  the  Tonkin  frontier.  But  really  accurately  we 
know  nothing  very  much  of  what  is  being  done.  With 
sixty  or  seventy  thousand  soldiery  suddenly  flung  down 
on  the  ruined  stretch  of  country  between  Peking  and  the 
sea,  everything  has  been  put  in  the  most  horrible  con- 
fusion. You  can  get  nothing,  nor  hear  anything.  Tele- 
grams are  the  only  things  which  are  coming  through 
with  any  regularity,  and  even  these  are  cut  to  pieces  by 
the  field  telegraphs  or  continually  getting  lost.  The 
mails,  it  is  true,  have  at  last  arrived,  but  they  are  all 
mixed  in  such  a  way,  and  there  is  such  old  correspon- 
dence heaped  on  top  of  the  new,  that  general  instructions 
and  the  proposals  made  read  h  this  way  seem  to  be  the 
ravings  of  madmen.  Ther:  are  hundreds  of  despatches 
of  April,  May,  and  June,  showing  the  calibre  of  some 
Foreign  Offices  in  an  unmistakable  way.  I  sometimes 
wonder  if  only  the  fools  are  left  in  the  home  offices. 

Still,  after  a  good  many  headaches,  one  can  begin  to 
appreciate  the  general  plan  which  was  finally  settled  on 


STILL    DRIFTING  437 

by  the  various  Chancelleries,  and  to  understand  what 
delayed  the  relief  so  much.  Most  of  all  it  has  been  the 
South  African  war.  Also,  it  seems  to  me,  they  wanted 
Waldersee,  the  German  Field  Marshal,  to  have  time  to 
take  over  the  supreme  command  for  the  sake  of  peace 
in  Asia,  and  so  that  there  should  be  an  enormous  massed 
advance  on  Peking,  which  would  capture  all  North 
China  to  Christendom  and  enslave  the  cunning  old 
Empress  Dowager,  and  do  everything  as  arranged  in 
Europe.  It  was,  above  all,  necessary  not  to  cause  an 
imbroglio  in  Europe. 

Of  course,  the  very  opposite  has  happened,  and  every- 
body is  now  as  discontented  and  jealous  as  before  the 
siege.  Waldersee  is  in  Tientsin  and  has  been  there  for 
weeks  for  some  new  decision  to  be  made.  The  grand 
advance  is  finished  and  done  with,  but  now  some  column 
commanders  wish  to  push  down  into  the  south  of  the 
province  and  isolate  the  Court,  if  possible.  Meetings 
are  being  held  the  whole  time,  but  as  Waldersee  is 
coming  up,  nothing  is  to  be  done  until  his  arrival.  By 
one  ingenious  stroke — the  sudden  flight  of  the  Court — ■ 
the  Chinese  have  turned  the  tables  on  allied  Europe  and 
made  us  all  ridiculous.  Any  one  might  have  anticipated 
something  of  this — there  is  a  precedent  in  the  histories. 
Yet  history  is  only  made  to  be  immediately  forgotten. 


XIV 

PUNITIVE   EXPEDITIONS 

October,  1900. 


At  length  Waldersee  has  arrived.  He  made  a  sort 
of  entry  which  seemed  to  me  farcical.  I  only  noticed 
that  he  was  very  old,  and  that  the  hats  that  have  been 
served  out  to  the  special  German  expeditionary  corps 
are  absurd.  They  are  made  of  rtraw  and  are  shaped 
after  the  manner  of  the  Colonial  hats  used  in  South 
Africa.  They  have  also  a  cockade  of  the  German 
colours  sewn  to  the  turned-up  edge.  This  must  be  some 
Berlin  tailor's  idea  of  an  appropriate  head-dress  for  a 
summer  and  autumn  campaign  in  the  East.  The  hat 
is  quite  useless,  and  had  it  been  a  month  earlier  all  the 
men  would  certainly  have  died  of  sunstroke. 

Of  course,  now  with  Waldersee  in  Peking,  something 
more  has  to  be  done,  and  the  rumour  is  to-day  that  the 
Court  has  begun  fleeing  yet  farther  to  the  West.  The 
rulers  of  China  are  being  kept  accurately  informed  of 
every  move  by  some  one,  and  any  indication  of  a  pursuit 
will  see  them  penetrate  farther  and  farther  towards  the 
vast  regions  of  Central  Asia.  It  seems  to  me  that  it 
would  be  almost  amusing  (would  not  the  consequences 
be  so  tragic)  to  begin  this  pursuit  and  really  to  attempt  to 
push  the  Court  so  far  away  that  it  finally  lost  touch  with 
all  the  rest  of  China.  Then  something  beneficial  to 
every  one  might  come.    An  ultimatum,  to  which  atten- 


PUNITIVE    EXPEDITIONS  439 

tion  would  be  paid,  might  be  served,  and  guarantees 
exacted  which  would  do  service  for  a  number  of  years. 
At  present  the  flight  has  done  no  harm  whatever  to 
China.  The  Court  is  not  even  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of 
the  populace.  It  is  merely  terribly  unfortunate — a 
really  luckless  Court,  which  deserves  to  be  commiserated 
with  and  wept  over  rather  than  upbraided.  For  it  is 
plain  to  every  one  that  the  first  and  last  reason  for  all 
this  is  the  foreigner  and  no  one  else.  Everything  the 
foreigner  does  is  always  a  source  of  trouble. 

Even  the  machinery  of  government  has  not  been  dis- 
turbed by  the  fact  that  vast  Peking,  the  vaunted  capital, 
is  in  the  hands  of  ruthless  invaders.  At  first  every  one 
thought  that  with  the  Palace  empty,  and  all  the  great 
Boards  and  offices  made  mere  camping-places  for  thou- 
sands of  hostile  soldiery,  the  government  of  the  whole 
empire  would  be  paralysed — sterilised.  Yet  that  has  not 
happened.  The  government  goes  on  much  the  same  as 
ever.  We  know  that  now.  For  as  the  Court  flees  it 
issues  edicts,  receives  reports  and  accounts,  is  met  with 
tribute  from  provincial  governors  and  viceroys,  is 
clothed  and  banqueted,  makes  fresh  appointments,  does 
its  day's  work  while  it  runs.  I  cannot  understand,  there- 
fore, how  this  is  to  end.  It  is  beyond  the  keenest  intel- 
lects in  Peking,  and  people  are  now  simply  waiting  for 
things  to  happen  and  to  accept  facts  as  they  may  be 
dealt  out  by  the  Fates.  It  is  an  inevitable  policy.  For 
you  must  always  accept  facts  when  you  cannot  mould 
them. 


XV 

THE   CLIMAX 

October,  1900. 


[• 


I  am  becoming  tired  of  it  all  once  again — inexpressibly 
tired.  It  seems  to  me  at  times  new  as  if  those  of  us  who 
remain  had  been  very  sick,  and  then,  when  we  had  be- 
come convalescent,  had  been  ordered  by  some  cruel  fate 
to  remain  sitting  in  our  sick-rooms  forever.  A  siege 
is  always  a  hospital — a  hospital  where  mad  thoughts 
abound  and  where  mad  things  are  done;  where,  under 
the  stimulus  of  an  unnatural  excitement,  new  beings  are 
evolved,  beings  who,  while  having  the  outward  shape 
of  their  former  selves,  and,  indeed,  most  of  the  old  out- 
ward characteristics,  are  yet  reborn  in  some  subtle  way 
and  are  no  longer  the  same. 

For  you  can  never  be  exactly  the  same ;  about  that  there 
is  no  doubt.  You  have  been  made  sick,  as  it  were,  by 
tasting  a  dangerous  poison.  Great  soldiers  have  often 
told  their  men  after  great  battles  have  been  fought  and 
great  wars  won  that  they  have  tasted  the  salt  of  life. 
The  salt  of  life!  Is  it  true,  or  is  it  merely  a  mistake, 
such  as  life-loving  man  most  naturally  makes?  For  it 
can  be  nothing  but  the  salt  of  death  which  has  lain  for  a 
brief  instant  on  the  tongue  of  every  soldier — a  revolting 
salt  which  the  soldier  refuses  to  swallow  and  only  is 
compelled  to  with  strange  cries  and  demon-like  mutter- 
ings.     Sometimes,  poor  mortal,  all  his  struggles  and  his 


THE   CLIMAX  441 

oaths  are  in  vain.  The  dread  salt  is  forced  down  his 
throat  and  he  dies.  The  very  fortunate  have  only  an 
acrid  taste  which  defies  analysis  left  them.  Of  these 
more  fortunate  there  are,  however,  many  classes.  Some, 
because  they  are  neurotic  or  have  some  hereditary  taint, 
the  existence  of  which  they  have  never  suspected,  in  the 
end  succumb ;  others  do  not  entirely  succumb,  but  carry 
traces  to  their  graves;  yet  others  do  not  appear  to  mind 
at  all.  It  is  a  very  subtle  poison,  which  may  lie  hidden 
in  the  blood  for  many  months  and  many  years.  I  believe 
it  is  a  terrible  thing. 

Nobody  should  have  been  allowed  to  stay  behind  after 
hearing  for  so  many  weeks  that  ceaseless  roar,  sustain- 
ing that  endless  strain,  enduring  so  much.  They  should 
have  been  made  to  forget — by  force. 

And  yet  even  this  nobody  understands  or  cares  to  speak 
of,  although  a  number  of  men  are  still  half  mad.  The 
newcomers,  soldiers  and  civilians  alike,  who  never  cease 
streaming  in  now  to  gaze  and  gape  and  inquire  how  it 
was  all  done,  are  quite  indifferent.  Some  say  that  it  must 
have  been  an  immense  farce — that  there  was  really  noth- 
ing worth  speaking  about.  Others  wish  to  know  curious 
details  which  have  no  general  importance.  The  English- 
men are  proud,  and  want  to  know  whether  you  were  in- 
side the  British  Legation,  their  Legation,  and  when  they 
have  heard  yes  or  no  their  interest  ceases.  They  little 
know  what  the  Legation  stood  for.  The  Americans 
march  up  to  the  Tartar  Wall,  talk  about  "Uncle  Sam's 
boys,"  and  exclaim  that  it  requires  no  guessing  to  tell 
who  saved  the  Legations.  The  French  are  the  same,  so 
are  the  Germans,  so  even  the  Italians.  Only  the  Japan- 
ese and  the  Russians  say  nothing. 

At  first  I  was  at  some  pains  to  explain  to  each  separate 


442         INDISCREET  LETTERS  FROM   PEKING 

man  what  really  occurred.  I  pulled  out  my  rough  map, 
all  thumb-marked  and  dirtied  with  brick  chips  and  the 
soil  of  the  trenches,  and  showed  stage  by  stage  how  the 
drama  unrolled.  It  was  no  good.  Poor  me !  nobody 
quite  understood.  Some  thought  possibly  that  I  was  a 
glib  liar;  others  did  not  even  trouble  to  think  anything. 
How  much  they  understood!  They  had  not  the  back- 
ground, the  atmosphere,  the  long  weeks  which  were 
necessary  to  teach  even  us  ourselves.  They  had  not 
tasted  the  poison  and  did  not  yet  suspect  its  existence. 
So  I  gradually  desisted.  Now  I  say  nothing,  never  a 
word.  I  listen  and  understand  how  history  is  made.  It 
is  best  never  to  explain  or  argue  if  you  thoroughly  under- 
stand. Rhetoric  is  only  the  amplification  of  something 
long  understood  in  one's  heart  of  hearts. 

I  am,  therefore,  tired  of  it  all,  inexpressibly  tired.  I 
wish  to  escape  from  my  hospital,  to  go  away  to  some 
clean  land  where  they  understand  so  little  of  such  things 
that  their  indifference  will  in  the  end,  perhaps,  convince 
me  and  make  me  forget. 

Yet  can  one  ever  forget? 


XVI 
THE   END 

November,  1900. 


Another  month,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  quite 
suddenly.  I  have  finished  with  it — at  least,  in  outward 
form.  After  waiting  a  couple  of  weeks  and  wonder- 
ing what  I  should  do,  a  last  argument  brought  it  about 
— an  argument  with  a  German  which  ended  by  enraging 
me  to  an  impossible  point  and  making  me  challenge  him 
to  anything  he  liked.  That  showed  me  that  my  last  safe 
moment  had  arrived. 

He  was  a  youngish  officer  sent  from  the  Field-Marshal's 
staff  to  discuss  some  diplomatic-military  details  with  my 
chief.  The  business  part  was  soon  over,  for  there  was 
really  little  to  decide,  and  then  the  man  fell  to  talking 
about  what  should  be  done.  He  said  that  were  there  not 
so  much  rivalry  and  jealousy,  and  could  Waldersee  only 
act  as  he  wished,  they  would  have  proper  punitive  ex- 
peditions which  would  shoot  all  the  headmen  of  every 
village  for  hundreds  of  miles,  and  make  such  an  example 
of  everybody  that  the  memory  would  endure  for  gener- 
ations in  every  district  where  there  had  been  Boxers. 
The  officer  was  eloquent  because  he  had  only  just  arrived, 
and  understood  nothing — absolutely  nothing.  For  some 
reason  our  stars  crossed  and  I  hated  him  immediately. 
So  I  waited  until  he  had  finished  so  that  I  could  begin. 
Then  I  began. 


444         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

I  cannot  even  remember  all  I  said,  for  I  was  greatly 
enraged  by  the  brutality  of  the  man's  ideas,  but  I  treated 
him  as  he  had  never  been  treated  before.  As  I  poured 
out  my  lava  stream  and  he  slowly  understood  what  I 
meant,  he  first  became  very  red,  and  then  very  pale,  and 
finally  he  stood  up.  I  took  advantage  of  that  action, 
and  since  we  all  still  are  armed,  I  told  him  he  could 
have  satisfaction,  at  once  if  he  wished,  and  at  any  num- 
ber of  paces  he  chose  to  name. 

My  chief  then  suddenly  intervened,  and,  trembling 
violently,  said  that  it  could  not  go  on — that  it  was  a  mis- 
take. He  took  the  blame  on  his  shoulders,  he  said,  and 
would  apologise  himself  later  on.  For  many  minutes  he 
harangued,  and  in  the  end  the  officer  went  away  with  his 
eyes  glittering,  but  not  too  reluctantly.  He  knew  that 
I  could  have  killed  him  with  my  second  chamber  unless 
his  first  shot  hit  my  vitals.  .    .   . 

After  that  there  was  a  second  scene — but  one  which 
was  much  more  brief.  My  chief  attempted  to  deal  with 
me,  and  to  him  I  spoke  my  mind.  I  am  afraid  I  said 
many  things  which  were  so  brusque  that  modern  society 
would  have  reproved  me.  I  told  him  that  it  was  well 
known  that  he  and  every  other  man  of  position  had  been 
tremulously  fearing  death  at  every  turn  for  weeks,  and 
had  been  unwilling  to  do  anything  when  they  might  have 
really  saved  the  situation;  merely  because  they  were  so 
afraid;  that  everything  had  been  misstated  in  the  re- 
ports, and  that  although  the  full  truth  might  not  be 
known  for  years,  eventually  it  would  be  known  and  peo- 
ple would  understand.  I  said  that  this  petty  life  created 
by  men  without  stomachs  had  ended  by  disgusting  me, 
and  that  I  had  finished  with  it  for  good  and  for  ever. 
Then  I  went  out  in  silence,  slamming  the  door  behind 


THE    END  445 

me  with  all  the  strength  of  my  arms.     It  was  a  most 
enormous  slam.     It  had  to  be  so;  it  was  my  last  word. 

In  my  commandeered  residence  I  found  that  the  breath 
of  misfortune  had  also  come.  The  rightful  owners  had 
managed  to  steal  into  Peking  in  the  train  of  some  big 
official  who  had  had  an  escort  of  foreign  soldiery  pro- 
vided him,  and  now  smilingly  and  cringingly  greeted 
me,  and  thanked  me  for  my  guardianship  during  their 
unavoidable  absence.  The  Manchu  women  were 
grouped  round  in  great  excitement.  They  did  not  relish 
the  change — they  did  not  want  it.  The  tall  and  stately 
one  who  had  first  touched  my  knee  on  that  dark  night 
during  the  sack  was  not  there. 

The  rightful  owners  irritated  me  intensely  with  their 
obsequiousness.  I  was  irritated  because  they  lived:  they 
should  have  ceased  to  exist  long  ago.  They  were  still 
very  much  afraid,  although  they  had  reached  Peking  in 
safety,  for  they  half  thought  that  I  would  hand  them  over 
to  some  provost-marshal  as  Boxer  partisans  in  order  to 
get  rid  of  them.  They  were  very  afraid.  The  Manchu 
women  were  all  talking  and  praising  me,  and  telling 
wonderful  stories  of  all  I  had  done.  But  the  most  im- 
portant one  of  them  was  absent.  I  became  vaguely  con- 
scious that  this  also  meant  something,  that  perhaps 
there  was  to  be  another  tragedy.  I  found  her  later  wish- 
ing to  kill  herself,  to  commit  suicide,  so  that  she,  too, 
need  never  return  to  her  other  life.  .  .  .  That  was  more 
terrible  than  the  other  scenes.  I  could  do  nothing,  yet 
my  responsibility  had  been  great.  In  the  end  something 
was  arranged.     I  hardly  remember  what. 

I  was  soon  ready  to  go;  on  the  same  afternoon  I  had 
completed  all  my  preparations.  I  had  so  little  to  pre- 
pare.    Then  I  rode  out  for  the  last  time  with  all  my 


446         INDISCREET    LETTERS    FROM    PEKING 

men  behind  me,  and  not  a  single  other  person.  We 
passed  down  the  streets  out  from  the  Tartar  City, 
through  the  ruins  of  the  great  Ch'ien  Men  Gate,  and 
then  followed  straight  along  the  vast  main  street,  still 
covered  with  debris  and  dirt,  and  skulls  and  broken 
weapons,  as  if  the  weeks  and  months  which  had  gone  by 
since  the  fighting  had  been  quite  unheeded.  Near  the 
outer  gates  of  the  city  I  met  my  three  cavalrymen  of  the 
Indian  regiment  waiting  to  bid  good-bye.  They  joined 
me  with  some  attempt  at  gaiety,  but  that  soon  fizzled 
out.     I  had  so  plainly  collapsed. 

We  passed  into  the  country  with  the  tall  crops  still  rot- 
ting as  they  stood,  because  every  one  had  fled  and  no  one 
dared  to  return.  We  went  on  faster  and  faster  as  the 
roads  broadened,  and  as  we  galloped  we  met  new  troops 
marching  in  on  Peking.  They  were  Germans  driving 
captives  of  many  kinds  in  front  of  them.  "Damned 
Germans,"  said  the  smaller  officer,  who  was  the  senior, 
and  who  had  been  quite  silent  for  some  time.  "Damned 
Germans,"  repeated  the  two  others  mechanically,  as  if 
this  was  a  new  creed,  and  I,  approving,  faintly  smiled. 
That  stirred  them  to  talk  again,  and  they  told  me  that 
the  expeditions  had  been  settled  on,  and  that  they  would 
have  to  go,  too.  Orders  had  come  from  home  that  they 
must  not  fall  out  with  Waldersee.  It  was  highly  im- 
portant to  placate  the  Germans  because  of  South  Africa. 
But  the  Americans  would  not  go,  neither  would  the  Rus- 
sians, nor  yet  the  Japanese.  It  was  to  be  a  new  arrange- 
ment. They  went  on  talking  in  this  wise  for  a  long 
time,  and  I  heard  these  scraps  of  conversation  vaguely 
as  in  a  dream.  Cynically  I  thought  that,  although  I  was 
leaving  it  all  behind  me  in  company  of  men  who  were 
strangers  to  Peking,  the  last  words  would  still  be  con- 


THE    END  447 

cerned  with  our  tortuous  diplomacy.  Yet  my  gallant 
friends  were  only  trying  to  console  me — to  make  me  for- 
get. Such  things  they  understood  far  better  than  others. 
They  were  from  India,  where  men  think  a  good  deal, 
and  sometimes  act.  They  were  treating  me  as  best  they 
could.  Then  when  we  came  to  a  sharp  rise  over  which 
the  road  curled  and  crawled,  they  halted  suddenly, 
stretched  out  their  hands,  and  bade  me  good-bye.  They 
meant  it  to  be  a  sharp  wrench — to  be  over  quickly.  Just 
on  the  rim  of  the  horizon  stretched  the  grey  of  the  fad- 
ing Tartar  Walls  with  their  high-pitched  towers.  The 
sun  sinking  behind  the  western  hills  threw  some  last 
flames  of  golden  fire,  but  the  air  remained  chill.  It  was 
becoming  cold,  and  even  the  dust  no  longer  rose  in 
clouds.  Everything  was  pinned  to  the  soil — tired — 
finished.  .   .   . 

I  rode  on  abruptly.  Then,  for  the  last  time,  my  cavalry- 
men turned  round  and  shouted  faintly  back  to  me.  It 
was  a  word  which  carried  well.  "Chubb,  Chubb,  Chubb," 
they  were  shouting,  to  give  my  thoughts  a  turn.  They 
knew  what  I  must  be  thinking.  They  knew :  they  had 
been  in  India.  I  quickened  my  horse  into  a  gallop,  rode 
faster  and  faster,  and  before  night  had  fallen  I  had 
gained  the  river-boats.    It  was  over.  .   .   . 


J^ 


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